Battle Scars
by GalInTheMoon
Summary: A cryptic plea for help from his brother sends Clint and Natasha to South America where they risk becoming the pawn in someone else's game, a game that could tear them apart forever. Non-canon, Clintasha, hearing-impaired Clint, WIP, set in an AU after Winter Soldier.
1. Chapter 1

Non-canon, Clintasha, hearing-impaired Clint, angst ridden, AU, WIP set after the events in Winter Soldier. Also follows events in the stories: Shadows & Bird On The Wire. It may be more enjoyable if you have read those but it should stand alone. This first chapter is heavy on the angst. It's mostly spill-over from Bird On The Wire, and though I left Clint and Natasha in a mentally okay place in that story, I assume that there would be emotional aftershocks that could hit well after that story ended.

Rated: M for language and potential story developments.

Disclaimer: I do not own them.

 **Battle Scars**

By: GalInTheMoon

Clint awoke with a start. The sweat that had been pooling in the hollow of his chest ran down his abdomen as he wiped the salty beads from his forehead. Beside him Natasha sat up, running her hand along his damp back. She looked around his shoulder, into his face, "You okay?"

"Fine. Go back to sleep." He slid out of the bed, pulled on his sweatpants with one hand, and was out of the room shortly after. She wouldn't follow. This had become their routine for the past couple of weeks. He would wake just as he had, abrupt and sweat soaked. She would question if he was alright and he would silently leave her to her concern. Different night, same scenario.

It had only been a couple months since he was abducted by a mad man out for revenge and only a few weeks back home. Anyone could easily guess what was plaguing his rest. The incident had left him injured. His right arm was still causing him pain, strapped to his abdomen in a brace, and it would be weeks, most likely months before he would be cleared to even try to use his bow again. To make matters worse the removable exterior piece of his SHIELD designed ear implants had been damaged so badly Tony and Bruce were still trying to put the tiny tech marvels back together. Everyone seemed to tiptoe around him and as much as he would deny it, he felt isolated, alone with all the thoughts that plagued him.

At the moment one of the thoughts that loomed large as any other was Barney, his older brother. Their youth had been one of constant struggle and survival. When they did go separate ways it was violent, and aside from a little reunion several years ago when Barney showed up at Clint's door under the guise of brotherly love only to leave him with scars from the encounter, Clint hadn't had any contact with him in his adult life. Then, seemingly out of the blue, his abduction, the injuries he currently suffered were because of Barney. It was to pay Barney back for putting SHIELD on his tail, and the loss of his wife, that Cross had taken so much vengeance out on Clint. When all was said and done he had had only enough time to say goodbye to Barney before he was gone, again. It had to have taken a toll on her partner. How could it not?

His brother was a mental poltergeist and a physical hurricane, destroying everything in his path. In person or by proxy it made no difference and the few times Clint was caught in Barney's shit-storm he was left demolished. There was no answer for it though. There was nothing Natasha could do or say to ease what haunted her partner. At least not tonight, not now. She closed her eyes, rolling over to try and give sleep a chance to return before Clint.

Meanwhile, Clint made his way down one of the hallways of the suites wing. He was heading to the common room and the small bar there. He wasn't proud of the fact that he had started taking this route to get some sleep but it was what it was. He stopped for a second when he made it to the large room whose entire outer wall was glass. The city lights twinkled outside just as the bar lights made the rows of bottles shimmer. He thought of turning back around for a split second when he saw Tony standing at the windows, drinking glass in hand, still dressed in his jeans and t-shirt of earlier. It was nearly four a.m. and he hadn't even tried to go to bed.

 _Forget this_ , Natasha would be happy to exhaust him back to sleep, but just as he was ready to sneak back to her side Tony turned around.

"Cupie." He raised the glass in his hand and walked over to the bar.

They had run into each other this very same way several nights since his return to the tower. It was becoming a thing and Barton was less than comfortable about it, but he suspected Tony wasn't tickled pink over their situation either. At least he seemed alright with his company. Tony began pouring him a drink, a whiskey dry, just the way he liked it. _Damn it,_ he thought. He had a drink to call his own. His stomach turned a little as he took the glass and finished the burning liquid in one gulp. Tony smiled and poured another. He stared at Clint a minute as the other man twirled the amber liquid in the glass in front of him but didn't take a drink.

"What was it tonight?" He asked, once Barton glanced up at him.

Clint shrugged. That translated to, hell if I know and double hell if I'm talking about it, in Barton non-speak-speak. Whatever was troubling him it wasn't making itself easily known, to the man himself least of all, and the last thing he was interested in doing was talking it out with Tony. "You?" He shifted the question to Stark.

Tony's smile was sharp and bitter. His humor ever more tipped in arsenic, "Gotta feed the beast or it gets angry."

Clint knew what he meant. He could nearly see the monster on Tony's shoulders. It was a monster he knew, a damned creature given to anyone who had seen a fight for survival of one form or another. And while some brought home a nippy Chihuahua that could draw blood but be managed with work, others, like Tony, were handed over a feral wolf with horns...and rabies.

"Starve the bastard Tony." He said as he continued to swirl his drink, fighting the urge to check over his own shoulder.

"Shhh," Tony put his finger to his lips, "It'll hear you." The man had clearly been at it for a while before Clint had gotten up. He watched him a moment, frowning. Tony Stark, the man who had everything including enough demons to fill an acre of hell. Tony returned the stare a second before the smile slid from his lips. He raised his glass and finished its contents. "Yeah." Was all Clint could say in return before he took a drink himself and dropped his head along with the glass once finished.

Tony watched him a moment before tapping his arm, making Clint look up. He pointed to his own ear, "We can do a test run tomorrow." He said referring to the hearing aids he and Banner were working to repair.

Clint swallowed, "Great."

"It's just a test. May be for nothing."

"Got it. It's good."

"Bruce thinks we have it locked in but I, uh, I don't know. Seems like SHIELD made some modifications beyond the schematics we have. We're missing something."

"Missing something?"

"Yeah. Do you remember how many they tested before they were keyed in?"

"None. Those were it."

"Perfect."

"You afraid of that?"

"We'll get it." He watched Barton a moment, "How's the arm?"

Barton dropped his hand midsip, "Shit Tony. Can you not?"

"Sure." He shrugged. He couldn't help but poke at bruises, "How's Red? She upset you're having these little middle of the night rendezvous with Jack Daniels?"

"Ask Pepper."

Tony rocked onto his heels, feigning emotion. "Oof, point taken."

"She doesn't know." Clint swirled his drink a little faster, teasing the amber liquid nearly to the crest of the rim.

"Sure she does. They always know Cupid." He took another drink.

"They do, and Pepper isn't dragging you back to bed?"

"She knows me too well." He shrugged, "I'll just come back out when she falls asleep again. She picks her battles."

Clint shook his head. He was ready to say something along the lines of, we're a couple idiots, when Steve walked into the room.

"Oh captain my captain!" Tony mock-yelled across the room.

He grimaced before sitting down, "Tony, Clint."

Tony offered a drink though he knew it wouldn't be accepted. Rogers didn't get anything from alcohol and usually chose to skip the pointless burn.

"No thanks. Water?" He looked between the two men, "This is becoming a habit."

"What's that?" Clint asked, ready to defend himself despite his heart not being in it.

"This. Meeting up in the middle of the night. It's becoming a habit."

Barton nodded. There was no arguing the facts. The three seemed to be in this same position every other night. The only thing that changed was at what point in this little scenario they met-up. Tony pushed Steve's iced water across the bar as Clint was sliding his glass toward Tony without a word. Tony filled it just as quietly. He stole a glance at Steve's hands as he slid Clint his drink. "You use up another one of my punching bags Cap?"

Steve followed Tony's line of sight. His hands were bruised and the skin over his knuckles torn and scabbed over, it was nothing that wouldn't be healed by mid-morning. What could he say, they all had their release in one form or another. "I'll replace it."

"Oh yeah and what about the last dozen?" Stark took a sip.

Clint stared at his glass, opting out of the conversation happening beside him. A simple turn of the head put him a million miles away.

"Seriously?" Steve asked, face fallen. "You said, and I'm quoting here, go at 'em pops."

Tony smirked but didn't respond. He didn't care about the bags any more than Steve cared about his own knuckles. He just liked to give the guy a hard time whenever possible. It was his thing and people, the captain especially, tended to be more honest once prodded past the niceties. Steve's eyes narrowed as he realized what Tony was doing. He waited a beat to give the man what he was after, "I don't think I'll ever get used to the hum."

"The hum?" Tony leaned forward, entirely confused but curious. Happy to be getting what he wanted after several nights of prodding, he rested his elbows on the bar.

"Everything hums or buzzes these days."

"Really, and you hear that?"

"You don't?"

"No I don't." He stood up. He got the answer he wanted but it was looking less interesting than first suspected, "Must be your super capi senses kicking in."

Steve drank the water in front of him, "No, no the worlds changed Tony."

"That what's messing with your sleep, the hum? Or the world?"

Steve shook his head, "Take your pick." He stood, finished his drink, slapped Clint on the back and once the archer looked over his shoulder said, "I'm turning in."

Clint lifted his fingers from his glass, "Night."

"Nighty-night Spangles." Tony watched Steve nod as he made his way out of the large room, his raised hand staying visible a moment longer as he disappeared around a corner to return the goodnight.

Tony looked back to Clint who was clearly still in his own head. He smirked to himself at the irony. One man was inundated by the world, while right beside him another felt cast out from it. "If people could only see us now." He looked at the ceiling. They were a mess. Some heroes. Whatever fading trust, hope, or faith the public had in them would be nothing but a memory if they saw the toll this superhero shit took out of them. Entire cities were easier to rebuild. Whatever numbing buzz he'd had was suddenly evaporating. He tapped Clint's glass to get his attention. "I'm going back to bed. The magic's gone."

Barton nodded, "Night Tony."

Tony started to walk away but paused, looking back, "You want company?"

Clint shook his head no. Tony nodded and waved at the glistening bottles, "Enjoy."

Barton raised his glass to his lips and finished the last of the whiskey before exhaling, "Not the word for it." When Tony paused, eyes concerned, Clint added, "Thanks."

Stark gave an index finger salute before walking away. He wanted to say something along the lines of not thanking the man who gives you the gun you shoot yourself with, but he was just too damn tired. He paused, remembering something, and pulled a folded envelope from his back pocket, "Forgot to give you this."

Frowning Clint reached out to take it as Tony came close.

"Came in this morning." He said with a shrug, "Night."

Clint didn't catch Tony's good night. The envelope had his total attention. He flipped it over in his hands. There was no return address and it was simply sent to Clinton F. Barton, Avengers Tower. He held it up to the dim light but could see nothing more than a faint rectangle slightly smaller than the envelope. He tapped it on the counter before dropping it and returning his hand to his cup.

He sat in silence twirling the empty glass battling his desire for another and his desire to walk away. As if she had been waiting there, Natasha materialized from the shadows of the hallway. She walked silently to the bar and sat beside him. Her hand rubbed along his back as she lowered into the seat. He watched as she did. Her short, ivory silk robe caught the dim lights. Creamy liquid metal cascaded across her thigh. Clint watched the colors play along the garment, admiring the form beneath before making eye contact.

"Hey." Was her simple response to his admiring gaze.

"Hey." His eyes shifted before he gave up the fight and looked away. She knew him too well. He could hide nothing from her.

Next to him she leaned over the bar, he assumed getting a glass for herself, but when she sat back down she was opening a bottle of water. She slid his whiskey glass out from his fingers while sliding the water into them. He watched her. She returned the look but said nothing as his eyes held hers for a long, heavy silence that was thick with meaning for them alone. At last, he nodded and drank the water, nearly finishing it in one gulp.

"Tired?" She asked once he had lowered the bottle.

"Exhausted."

"Let's go." She stood.

He grabbed her arm, stopping her in place as he met her eyes. He wanted to tell her he couldn't sleep, that he was scared to try. He wanted to tell her that something was chasing him every night and it wasn't the sandman. He wanted to tell her the only thing that numbed the fear that was growing in the pit of his stomach was just another monster he had been running from all his life. He wanted to tell her he was falling apart in more ways and places than he could comprehend. And that the realization scared him shit-less. That the only thing that scared him more was that she might one day pay for his spreading fault-lines. That he didn't know what to do. He wanted to say all of that but instead he dropped his hand and let her go, standing as he did.

She waited and watched him a moment. "Clint?"

"Let's go to bed." He rubbed her arm as he walked past. She watched him walk away. She understood more of what was tearing him apart than he would believe, maybe more than he knew himself, and because of that she didn't push. She accepted what he offered while he offered it.

After all, she had her own fears that she wouldn't confess to him if by chance her voicing them would make them so. Fears that he wouldn't want this life much longer. That he _couldn't_ live this life much longer. That he needed more, that he needed normalcy, that he needed things she couldn't offer. A life she couldn't give or join. She watched him walk out of sight before she followed, grabbing the forgotten envelope he had left on the bar as she did.

Her mind fumbled as he turned a corner in front of her. What would she do when the day came he left her behind? She knew it was coming. She could feel it. She could see it. He had already put in so many years and now with the Avengers, it was too much. Sure as he would wake up soaked in sweat again before the sun ever broke the horizon he would look for something else, an escape from all the death and nightmares. This life was killing him. Many would have been chewed up and spit-out already.

What he needed, what would sustain him was a word, an idea, she couldn't allow herself to say much less live. It was one thing lacking in their lives that had brought them together on one level and it would be the thing that would tear them apart on another. Family. A life filled with safety, love, and normalcy. It was something that the Red Room had taken from her. A life she could never know. It was the one thing Clint needed. The thing he longed for whether he knew it or not. The one good, solid plug for the gaping hole in his soul and she couldn't be a part of it. She couldn't live like that. The words alone were so bitter on her tongue. At some point she would have to step away. If she loved him, and she did (though she denied it to herself), she would have to before there was nothing left of him. The only question was how long would she hold on. How greedy would she be with this love she danced around and teased?

When she walked into his room Clint was already sliding under the blankets, his brace dropped to the floor. He slowly rested back against the pillows that propped him up, arm across his waist, eyes closed. The blinds were open allowing the light to spill into the bedroom and lay in stripes across the bed and Clint. There were times pitch black darkness was just too suffocating. She dropped the letter in her hand on the nearest surface, and let her robe slip to the floor before walking over to the bed and sliding in beside him. She draped her arm over his waist, gently resting her hand upon his. She gazed up at his still features. The lines around his eyes were growing deeper and no longer faded when he rested. She wanted to disturb him, to make him talk more, but she didn't. She had coaxed him to bed. She had pulled him back for an hour or two. She would take the little victories where she saw them. _Pick your battles_ , she thought, as she wrapped her leg over his and whispered good night to the walls. _Pick your battles_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

When Natasha awoke the sun was breaking free of the horizon. Warm hues danced through the room and bounced in the corners. She stretched and looked towards Clint who was still out. Sleeping peacefully at last. Slowly she made her way out from under his legs and the blankets causing him to stir only slightly. Satisfied that she had made an escape without waking him she dressed quietly and opted to take her morning shower after breakfast and in her own suite. He needed as much sleep as he could get and she wouldn't risk disturbing it for her own convenience.

She made her way for the door, her eyes catching the folded envelope that she had absently dropped onto the small table by the bedroom door the night before. She picked it up and put it in her pocket without much thought beyond an instinctual guardianship of the thing. She stepped out into the hall, listening as she did. There were few voices that she expected to hear in the tower in these dawn hours. Pepper would already be out tackling whatever Stark Industries threw her way and would have, no doubt, been at it since before the sun rose. Tony too would be awake. The man never slept and seemed to always pace some corner of his tower, a restless king. Though she knew it wasn't boredom that kept his body moving. His adrenaline was always flowing and his mind was always thinking, creating.

Steve would no doubt be awake but probably off to himself. He was working on something. It was something he didn't want to share with the others and it was taking up more and more of his time. Though she was curious, and a little resentful of his no-secrets-in-a-team hypocrisy, she trusted that whatever he was into he had good reason for keeping it to himself. Anyway, she was never one for _not_ keeping secrets. Some things needed to remain in the dark for a time, or for eternity, in her opinion.

Then there was Bruce. He was the wild card. He could be awake, could be asleep, could be working in the lab stomach growling unnoticed, or he could be sitting savoring a large breakfast with no thought but his next bite. He went with the flow of his moods. It was part of what kept him from bursting at the seams, she imagined, his flexibility. But it also meant she had no idea where he would be this morning or any other.

Thor was gone. Returned to a world that she could only imagine. That left her with only one sure, welcome, voice to fill the current silence of the tower, "Good morning Ms. Romanoff." Jarvis seemed to respond to her thoughts.

"Good Morning Jarvis." She continued toward the front elevators, choosing to bypass the common room and its small kitchenette. There was a large staffed kitchen a few floors down that no one seemed to visit, which just so happened to make it one of her favorite places in the tower.

"Natasha." Kevin, the day chef called across to her when she stepped out of the elevator and into the shining kitchen.

She smiled. Kevin was tall and stout with the type of larger-than-life presence that filled the room with love. It was a trait that seeped into his dishes. "Morning Kevin." She found a bounce to her step that hadn't been there moments before.

He walked over to her, wiping his hands on his apron as he did, "Can I make you something?"

She shook her head no. He always asked and she never let him. She came here for the company and the peace not to have him cook for her. "No thank you."

"One of these days."

"Doubt it."

"Me too." He smiled, "How about I make something for Clint? You can take it up with you." He knew the archer as well as Nat. Clint had actually been the one to start coming down here first. He and Kevin had hit it off immediately. They were both mid-westerners with all the straight forward, down-to-earth, nose to the grindstone mentality that seemed to go along with that. Not to mention the chef had taken up throwing knives in his youth for no reason beyond boredom. Clint had found in him a kindred spirit and as able a darts competitor as any in the tower.

"He's still sleeping...it's probably best to let him." She began to take ingredients from one of the large refrigerators.

Kevin watched her, "You can use that one." He pointed to one of the open stove-tops and the pans nearby, "How is he?" He hadn't seen Clint since his return to the tower.

"He's okay." She looked up at his doubting eyes, and confessed,"He's been better."

"Tell him he needs to get down here. There's a beautiful steak that's got his name all over it."

"I will."

Someone hidden farther back in the kitchen called for Kevin, "I'll be right back."

Natasha nodded and went about making her breakfast. It was a quick meal to make and she was sitting on a stool by the counter, eating, when he made it back to her. He pulled a stool over and sat beside her, stealing a bite of her breakfast as he did. She looked at him questioning.

"It's good." He said around the bite.

She continued to watch him as she took another forkful, her eyes narrowed, knowing he was holding back a critique. The plate finished she pushed it away. "No stars?"

"Ah come on Nat. You know I'd give you all the stars in the milky way." He continued to smile.

She smiled back, "Smooth." Grabbing her plate, she stood and was going to make her way to one of the sinks in the back.

"I'll take that." He took the plate away.

"Thanks for letting me hijack your kitchen." Her empty hands seemed to rub together of their own volition

"Any time." When she started to walk away he added, "I'm serious about that steak. Tell him."

She looked over her shoulder, "Promise."

She had only made it a few feet when Kevin stopped her again, "Hey, you dropped this." He was holding out the folded envelope.

She walked back to him, "Thanks." and turned it over in her hand, "This thing..." she started but Kevin was already gone, called away again. She went back to looking at the letter and noticed for the first time it was postage stamped from Venezuela. Alarms went off but she told herself it was just a coincidence that Clint's brother Barney lived there. Coincidence. Had to be. There was also no return address but that could be for a lot of reasons...right? Right. Barney was long gone. She had warned him after all to never show up in Clint's life again.

She was lost in thought, flipping the letter in her hands, smacking it one against the other as she rode the elevator up to the residence. She contemplated throwing it away. What could be inside after all that would do Clint any good? Nothing. The elevator binged, doors opened, and she stepped out. Looking up just in time to see Clint but not soon enough to stop. She ran straight into his braced arm. He huffed with the impact, "Morning Nat." He stepped back already shaking off the blow.

"Shit sorry." She held back the knee-jerk reaction of grabbing his arm. "You okay?"

He grinned at her concern, "Fine.".

Natasha looked him over, more to make her own assessment of his condition than to critique his wardrobe, but she couldn't help noticing he was back in the sweatpants he was wearing the night before, a plain tee, and socks. Clint was never more than a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy but this new wardrobe was casual even for him, "Where you going?"

"Tony and Bruce are ready to..." He gestured toward his ear without finishing the statement.

She nodded, "I just saw Kevin. He says you need to have a steak with him."

"Oh yeah."

"Yeah. You should go see him. I think the big guy misses you."

"I should." He caught her look, "I mean, yes, I will." Gesturing to the envelope in her hand, "What's that?"

She raised it, "Your letter. You left it on the bar last night and I..."

She wasn't making any move to hand it over and he raised his eyebrows in anticipation, "Thanks for getting it."

"It's odd."

"What's that?"

She unfolded the envelope opening it up for him to see, "There's no return address, and most admirers don't use your full name."

"That is different." He rubbed at his neck. He had bigger things to think about at the moment then some oddly addressed letter.

"It's from Venezuela." She couldn't remember if anyone had mentioned to him that Barney was living there now. "Barney lives there." She waited a beat for him to react, to say more, "Aren't you curious...at least suspicious..." When he still said nothing she continued, "concerned...annoyed..?"

"Maybe." _Not really._

She raised her eyebrows, _seriously_.

Clint chuckled a little, "I don't know if you want me to open that thing or throw it away."

"I don't either." She ripped it open, "Problem solved."

His smile widened and he shook his head as he took the letter from her that she had already pulled from the opened envelope. She watched as his eyes scanned over the paper and his smile faded. When it took him too long to say anything she tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up. She raised her eyebrows, _well._

He smiled again but it was anything but happy, "Good instincts." He handed it over to her as he walked away. "I'm heading to the lab." He added without turning around.

Natasha didn't notice him go. She was too transfixed by what was in front of her.

 _Hey Franny. I won't pussy-foot around it. I need your help and you owe me. I can't go into it here, but meet me at the street market near the metro station in Petare, Caracas, at two p.m. on the twenty-first. It's life or death brother. I need you. -B._

"Are you kidding me?" She looked for Clint and only just realized he was already gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Natasha was waiting in Clint's bedroom when he returned from the lab. She assumed he would want the solitude of his suite as well as her company when he was finished with Bruce and Tony's tests. They had been working at it for hours and any thought of Barney's letter was currently taking a backseat to her concern and hope for her best friend and partner. She was sitting on his bed, elbows on her knees, hands intertwined, staring at the floor when he entered. He glanced her way and she sat up a little straighter, rubbing her hands along the tops of her thighs as she did. He walked toward his closet without a word and pulled out his old, worn-out black duffel bag, and threw it on the opposite side of the bed.

She looked at it, then to him. She was expecting him to fall on the bed beside her, spent. Not this rush. She was thrown off, "So you're going?"

"Yeah." He glanced at her while he folded a shirt as best he could one handed and put it in the bag.

"Right now?" Her eyes followed him as he walked back and forth, closet to bed, bed to closet.

"As soon as I'm done here." He didn't turn around.

She waited for him to walk back toward the bed, to be facing her again, "Shouldn't we do a little scouting before you dive into...whatever this is?" He didn't respond. She weighed her words, "You know you don't owe him anything." If the emotional jab in Barney's letter, the you-owe-me accusation, was referring to his protection of Clint in their youth, that ship had sailed long ago. If it was about recent events, well, it took a special kind of cold-hearted bastard to suggest he was owed anything more than the slap in the face she so wanted to give him.

"That's not what this is about." he looked down as he lifted one edge of the bag to make room for more things.

She leaned towards him, her hand resting beside his duffel bag, "Why the rush? Why go at all?"

"He's my brother, Nat." He said it as if it should be obvious, as if it were simple. As if everything that had happened, everything Barney had done, was nothing more than a childhood snub on the playground. She couldn't fathom it.

"Is he? After everything..."

"He is." His look was so determined, so intense that it put an end to that particular line of questioning with one solid stare. He wouldn't discuss it. In many ways he was as done with Barney as she was, surely more so, but he couldn't turn away from him when he asked for help. If he could what was the point of the life he lived? Why defend anyone at all if he could turn a blind eye to the troubles of the last bit of family he had on this earth. It didn't matter what Barney had done. It didn't matter what he might do. It couldn't. If he were truly in trouble he had to help him but he'd be damned if he could explain why to Natasha, to anyone, maybe even to himself.

She said nothing, taking one of the poorly folded shirts out of his bag, and folded it neatly.

He stopped and watched her a moment, "You're not going to try to convince me to stay, bend me to your will?"

She rolled her eyes, as if she would try, as if he really thought she would _._ She had learned early on Clint wasn't the kind of man you could manipulate. He saw most things too clearly and once he knew what you were up to it was easier to move a mountain than play him. She wouldn't anyway, even if she could. She respected him, appreciated him, cared for him too much to try. No, she would stand by him, or stand up to him if that's what it took, but she wouldn't try to operate him. She put the folded shirt back into the bag before grabbing another. "Of course not, but I'm coming with you."

He grinned, "Oh no you're not."

She didn't return the smile, "You can't stop me Barton. I'm with you or I'm following you. Your choice."

His grin faded as he stopped what he was doing and watched her a minute. He knew the look on her face. He knew that steel-lined stare, "You wouldn't stay if I asked would you?"

"Would you ask? " She held his gaze before going back to folding his things. She already knew the answer and when he didn't respond it was as much consent as he would give and more than she needed. They continued to pack together for several minutes in silence. Once she remembered why she had been waiting for him in the first place, she asked, "How did it go with Bruce and Tony?"

"They're in." He pointed to his ear.

"So they did it." There had been some serious question as to how long it would take to fix them. Tony would never say it was impossible, but when she watched Banner's eyes dart away from Clint time and again when the subject came up, doubts had begun to grow and bubble like darkening storm clouds in the back of her mind. She was immeasurably relieved at the news.

"Close enough." he shrugged.

"Close enough?" She sat back on the bed, "What does that mean?"

"It means they're good enough for now. They'll work." He zipped his bag a little before leaving it and kissing her lightly on the lips, "I'm jumping in the shower."

So much for immeasurable relief. She watched him as he walked toward the bathroom, dropping his brace and clothes to the floor in an uncharacteristic show of carelessness. That was it then. He wasn't going to give her more. There would be no more explanations. Good enough had to be good enough, for the both of them. She ran her hands along her legs before standing. She wanted to follow him into the shower, to make love to him in the hot downpour until they moved to the bed and stayed there intertwined. She wanted to savor this little victory, however small, before they moved on to whatever the next catastrophe may be. She wanted to and yet she didn't, "I'll just get my things." She said to no one.

Her suite was just above his. Tony, or maybe it was Pepper, had been thoughtful enough to add a staircase tucked into what looked like a coat closet to connect the two residents. They could come and go without either having to ride the elevator that all the suites shared. It allowed them a little needed discretion despite everyone being well aware of their relationship.

Once upstairs she only grabbed some immediate necessities and only enough clothes for a few days. She could purchase the rest in Caracas. With that it only took her minutes to gather what she needed, and compose a short message for Jarvis to give to the others once she and Clint were gone, before heading back downstairs.

When she walked into his bedroom Clint was already out of the shower and sliding his jeans on. His back was to her, and he was twisting his legs a little as he did to assist his uninjured left arm with the effort. He looked at her as he leaned over to get his shirt from the bed. "Ready?"

She lifted her bag, "Set."

He nodded in understanding and slid his shirt on awkwardly. He couldn't lift his right arm yet, in fact he could do very little with it. The latest of several scheduled surgeries that traveled up and down the arm had been on his shoulder. He'd had more movement before the surgery but also more pain. She sat her bag on the floor and walked over to him, taking the waiting brace from the bed. She helped him slide into it and fastened the multiple straps while he watched her. Normally he would have said something slightly abrasive and oddly funny about himself or the situation. He would have tried to lighten the moment at his own expense. Instead he remained silent and accepted her help. It was a testament to just how off-kilter he still was.

She looked up at him after finishing but didn't back away, she searched his features before meeting his eyes, and raising up on her toes to kiss him. He kissed her back and when she started to pull away he rubbed his hand into her hair, nearly cupping her head in his open hand and keeping her in place. They kissed longer until he eased his grip and pulled away from her. Faces still close, she watched him eagerly. Clearly he was feeling the same desire she was but he dropped his hand altogether before looking away. "We better go."

Disappointed, she watched as he grabbed his bag from the bed, scooping hers up as well as he walked toward the door. They left the room and started walking down the hall toward the elevator. She followed, thinking about the look she had seen in his eyes. It was subtle and only there a split-second, but it reminded her of Barney. It was a weariness, a bone-deep exhaustion. What gnawed at her though was not its presence but how differently they would each handle it, "Do you remember seeing him?" She asked, not exactly sure where she was going with the question.

"Barney? Bits and pieces, but yeah, a little...why?" He glanced over his shoulder as he continued walking.

"He looked worn out. Tired." Her hands found her jacket pockets.

Clint nodded. He remembered that much. The elevator doors opened in front of them and they hurried to enter.

"He looked too tired for a fight." Natasha added once they were inside and the doors were closing.

"Good. We'll be even." He joked but it fell flat.

"He'll be desperate. He'll play dirty."

"The day Barney plays fair is the day you should be worried." He met her eyes reassuringly, "He doesn't have any game we haven't seen before."

"But you're still recovering."

"I can _still_ handle him." He sideways grinned, "And I have you."

Natasha moved in closer. She had realized what she wanted to say and he wasn't going to throw her off with his considerable charm, "That's just it Clint. He's your one blind-spot, and he knows it. You give him a chance and he'll take advantage of your hope." _just like in D.C., s_ he hesitated, she had better get to the point before she dropped it altogether, "I won't trust him. I won't give him any chances. I won't because you will."

Clint leveled his gaze on her. She had expected anger, denial, anything other than the sad sort of understanding that met her, "He's not the only one you're not trusting Nat."

It was the end of conversation, and after a few silent minutes, the end of the elevator ride. The doors pinged open and he moved passed her out into the underground parking garage. They were at her car and on their way to the airport shortly after. There were no available flights for a few hours and they were left sitting and waiting. The upside was it gave them time to stare-down the unknown in front of them.

"So what's your plan for the next couple days?" She asked flipping through a map on her phone.

"Get into Petare, get comfortable with the place, see if we can find Barney and meet him on our time-line. Find out and get ahead of whatever the hell is happening."

"Simple." She shrugged.

"Piece of cake. You have any information on what he's doing there?" He assumed they must have completed a fairly thorough check into Barney while he was playing hooky with Cross.

"Not much. He owns a shop for cover, runs some small-time jobs out of the back."

"Address?"

"I think Bruce has it."

"Names, associates we should know?"

"I'll ask Bruce." A twinge of guilt ran through her that she didn't have more. She had been so stubborn, so certain that the answer to finding her partner had nothing to do with his brother. She had argued against pulling Barney into it despite that being the one thing his abductors had asked for. In hindsight she felt she had been unprofessional, maybe even foolish, and Clint had had to claw himself free while she fought and argued at every turn. Her lack of knowledge of even the little information they had felt like a testament to her own failure.

As she grew silent he shifted his weight in the seat. He knew his partner well enough to know when she was beating herself over the rocks for one thing or another. He always heard more in her silence than her words, "We've worked a job on less."

She moved her hair behind her ear, "We do have one fly more than shit." It was a phrase she had heard him say time and again. One she hated even though it had seeped into her own speech. Her scowl gave way when she saw the genuine sideways smile spread across his lips. "Only fly we need."

She finally grinned back at him, "You know this is almost like the old days."

"The one-cluster-fuck-after-another old days?" He asked.

"No, that's same-old, same-old. I mean the just-you-and-me days." She nudged his good shoulder gently.

He nodded. It was true and who would have thought their days as a strike team for SHIELD would be the good times?

"You ever consider making the just you and me days a full time gig Tash?" It was a weighted question and one he realized he hadn't given enough thought before asking when Natasha swallowed and looked down at the map again before answering, "And leave all this fun behind?"

"Fun." He rested his head back and looked at the ceiling, regretting his misstep. If fighting aliens, monsters, and sadistic psychopaths was fun he was ready for misery. The momentary lift in their spirits was dissipating, "How was he? Barney I mean." He realized it was the first time he had asked about Barney in all the weeks that had passed since he'd seen him.

She looked up and searched his eyes a moment, "He was...Barney."

"But beyond that irresistable exterior?"

"I don't know. Honestly, I'm sorry, but I didn't give him much of a chance."

He shifted in his seat, "Guess I can't blame you there." He was disappointed to hear it. He may not have asked but he had been thinking a lot about his brother. He had played the glimpses he could remember over and over again in his mind. He had hoped without knowing it for some insight, some reconnection with the older brother that he had loved and trusted, had even admired before things had changed to such an extreme. Instead the brother of his youth steadfastly remained a stranger, a passing specter. Whatever good he could remember seemed nothing more than an illusion.

The hours passed slowly, in a quiet anxiety that was only tempered by Clint's resolve to see whatever was happening through and Natasha's determination to stay by him through this laps in judgment. There was a several hour lay-over in Florida that had them both pacing when not watching the passing crowds and guessing at their stories. Once they were at last in flight to Venezuela Clint caught up on some much needed rest. But his sleep was disturbed by visions of bottles shimmering in city lights, a staircase that lead down to an empty abyss, and swarms of locusts that howled and moaned like a strong wind through a crack in the door. Their teeth as large and sharp as an arrowhead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It was easy enough to find a hotel room from the airport and they wasted no time getting out into the city and learning the lay of it. They had suspicions Barney was not living in Petare. Odds were he lived close though. He probably knew Petare, maybe worked there. He would know how to slip in and out and make it back to a safe place quickly. That was, of course, assuming he had picked the location of the meet-up. No matter what though they would have to know the market area as well as any local before Friday. They would have to be able to respond instinctually to any situation and part of that was knowing your surroundings inside and out.

As far as finding Barney went. They showed a surveillance camera picture around of him that Bruce had printed a couple months ago, but no one seemed to recognize him. What little public records they could look at before tomorrow showed no sign of a Barney Barton in Caracas. Let alone Venezuela. Clint was beginning to doubt his brother had ever lived in the city, Banner's detective work aside.

It was becoming painfully clear it would take every hour until they were to meet Barney at two p.m. on Friday to find him. It was already Wednesday night. The odds of controlling the situation, of even getting an idea of what Barney was up to, were looking slim. By evening they were tucked into a corner cafe on the edge of the city sprawl. Two tourists just having a romantic dinner. Mountains rose above the tops of buildings here and there. Their sides covered in a shimmering blanket of lights as the sky glowed a warm rose behind them.

Natasha was absently tapping her fork on the table. To say she was less than happy would be an understatement. She had believed they would find him today or at the very least a sloppy trail. That they would have a full day to follow him, to approach him on their terms. Having not heard from anyone at the tower only added to her frustration. Maybe out of that frustration or the fact that nothing seemed to be going in their favor, she finally confessed, "I asked Jarvis to tell everyone what was happening...I asked them for help if we need it." Natasha looked across the table at Clint who, mouth full, glanced at her jumping fork. It was an uncharacteristic show of stress.

His brows creased and he looked her in the eyes. He swallowed before saying, "When?"

"They probably knew before our plane landed." She took a breath and leaned forward, dropping the utensil, "I know you didn't want to involve anyone else, but we may need them. They should be prepared."

Clint thought for a while before speaking, his eyes narrowing as he looked out the window beside them. It seemed to her something caught his attention but no sooner had the look crossed his features it passed. He looked back to her, "You're right." He leaned back, and nodded before asking, "Dessert?"

She hadn't expected him to have an outburst, but his calm, complete acceptance of her deception was a surprise. She was momentarily thrown off. "Dessert?"

"Follows a meal. Usually involves something sweet." The edge of his mouth raised into a cocky grin.

"You're okay with involving the team then?" She watched him suspiciously.

"If we have to. It was the right call." He leaned forward again, grin still in place, his eyes sparking with a devious light, "I think I'll have something with strawberries. Chocolate and strawberries."

"Reminds me of the..." She caught on to his smile, as well as his subtle reference to a past encounter she was only just remembering, and returned it. "We should go."

"We really should."

They walked out of the cafe and toward their hotel room. Natasha didn't catch the glance Clint made over his shoulder as they left or that he motioned someone back before they had to split up to arrive seperately at their hotel. They had gotten separate rooms under an alias just in case someone would be watching for them, and had to make a slight attempt at keeping up the illusion. Not that they were trying too hard. Neither one was convinced there was any threat beyond Barney.

Natasha was in the room that they were actually sharing first. She had stripped down to her undergarments and was waiting for Clint on the bed, but he was taking too long, and she was getting restless with anticipation. She shifted on the bed, any pose she was trying to maintain forgotten. She grabbed the blouse she had been wearing and slipped it back on before walking over to the window to glance down at the street for any sign of her partner.

It was a clear night but the city lights seemed to have trouble finding ways into all the cracks and crevices of the city. The shadows ran dark and deep. The only benefit to dark shadows was they made things like wisps of breath on cold nights or pale cigarette smoke that much easier to see. Smoke like the kind that was swirling out from a gap in the buildings across the street. Its thin gray body twirling and dancing in the lamp light before dissipating above her partners head. Clint seemed to feel her watching and glanced back at the hotel. He didn't seem to see her before she tucked farther behind the curtain and he turned back around to speak to the hidden figure.

*POV shift*

"You came early." A familiar voice came from the shadows.

"Shoulda known I would." Clint looked back to the darkness, away from the so slight movement at the hotel window that told him Nat was watching, and jammed his good hand into his pants pocket.

"Guess so." Barney audibly sucked on his cigarette.

"How'd you find me?"

Barney chuckled, "I got friends. They see a Yank that looks a lot like me wandering the neighborhood, flashing my picture to every god damn person walking by, and I hear about it. They let me know." He blew a plume up and above them and shook his head, "Sloppy man."

Clint stared at him a moment, "So what are we doing here Barney? What's going on?"

Barney smiled, shaking his head, and looking down, "You look better than last time I saw you. Arm's still fucked up." He raised his chin toward Clint's braced arm.

"It's getting better." Clint stared, "You wanna tell me what's going on?"

Barney watched him, blowing smoke out his nose. He seemed to enjoy exhaling clouds of smoke more than inhaling the tobacco. His eyes narrowed, "Straight to it then." He picked something from his tongue and flicked it away. "Fine, fine. So a few weeks ago a package comes. No markings, just dropped at my door. I don't think much about it and it sits on my desk until I get sick of looking at the damn thing and open it." He shakes his head and looks up at the sky, "It was like fuckin' Christmas in July Franny. Piles of hundred dollar bills, and a tiny wrapped box, with a note saying to deliver the box and I can have the cash. All of it. Catch is it's being watched and if I don't deliver it...someone will be by for the whole thing and then some." Barney paused, seeming lost in memory.

"You delivered it then? No questions asked?" Clint asked.

Barney looked Clint in the eyes for maybe the first time since they started talking, "I asked a lot of fucking questions but there was no one to answer 'em and it was fifteen thousand U.S. dollars. Yeah, I wanted it. Anyway the note said I was being watched. Deliver or else, you know. I had to." He watched Clint, waiting for his condemnation, but it didn't come so he went on, "When I got back from the drop my shop was gone. Just smoldering dust. The damn package was rigged, it was some kind of fucking remote control bomb."

"That doesn't make sense Barnes. They had you leave to bl..."

Barney saw where he was going and interrupted, "My girl was there."

"Your gi..."

Barney went on, "Yeah, I thought she was..." He shook his head, "That was until last week when some kid walking by slaps a letter in my hand." Barney paused, "It said to make sure you were at the Petare market at two this Friday and they'd give her back."

"Sounds familiar." It was too similar to Cross' m.o. to be coincidence. It was the same set-up Clint had been in. Barney for him. The man may have been behind bars but madmen always had minions wiling to do the dirty-work in their absence. It couldn't just be a coincidence. Cross had been determined to destroy the brothers one way or another and take as many people down with them as he could. Would he have really let incarceration stop him from aiming for that goal? Probably not. Clint looked around again suddenly feeling as if eyes were on him from all directions, "So what's your plan Barney?"

"You're here. That's it."

Clint chose to bypass the fact that Barney had just admitted, without flinching, that he was more than willing to trade him for his girlfriend, "What makes you so sure they even have her?"

"They have her."

"What makes you so sure?"

Barney pulled a folded photo from his pocket, "This was with the note." Clint took it. It was of a twenty-something woman with light brown hair. She looked unconscious, battered. _Make it happen_ , was written on the back in sharpie, "Barney..."

"Don't say it."

"She may not be ali..."

"Don't fuckin' say it Frannie. Don't you fuckin' say it! I'm getting her back!" Barney rocked on his feet, fighting the emotions rising to the surface. Clint shook his head. He had enormous doubts but he was silenced, he wouldn't try to voice them again. Barney's breath hitched before he began to speak once more, "I was turning it around. I was working toward an honest living and she's a good woman." He tapped the photo, "She believed I could. Be better, you know. She's the only one, the only one who believed and...and she's pregnant." Barney rubbed at his eyes, "I have to try."

Clint looked back at the picture, back at the life potentially caught in the middle. For a split second he could feel the world shift beneath his feet. The train had switched tracks and there was no going back. If he had had any inclination to walk away from Barney it was gone, "I'll help. I'll do what I can."

"I knew you would man. I knew you would."

"Yeah." He handed the picture back over. "Where you staying?"

"I got a place." He sniffed, flicked his cigarette, and looked away.

Clint waited a beat for him to say more, but he didn't, "Alright. Meet up with me tomorrow, one pm in the park over there." He nodded toward the city park just in sight of the hotel. "I need to see what I can find out before we can talk plans." Clint turned to walk away.

"Sure, sure. Tomorrow." Barney shifted.

Clint turned back around and stared his older brother down, "I'm serious Barney. One o'clock. If you don't show up I'm out."

"I'll be there. Shit Francis."

Clint watched him a beat before nodding and walking away. Two stories above him, in the hotel window, Natasha was still watching through a slit in the curtain. It wasn't until Clint was on the sidewalk below, out of sight, that the smoke that rose in quick, steady intervals ceased. She let go of the curtain and went back to bed.

It took only a couple minutes for the door knob to slowly twist and the hallway light to spill into the room. Clint gently closed the door and began removing his clothes, sliding into the bed beside her. She rolled over to face him, "Hey." She rubbed her hand down his chest. "You took too long."

He rubbed his hand along her temple, "I'm sorry, go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep." She sat up, pulling the sheets with her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He knew she had been watching. He had hoped she would have, it was why he had stayed in the lamplight instead of ducking into the shadows with Barney. But somewhere between the sidewalk and the door, as images of barney's battered girlfriend flashed in his mind, he had decided to play at keeping it a secret. It was a risk, but if Natasha knew he was keeping something from her she would be fierce. She would distrust him as much as he distrusted himself, as much as she had suggested back at the tower, as much as she should. He couldn't see clearly when it came to his brother. On guard against even him was just where she needed to be mentally. Not to mention, it could potentially keep her running after the wrong lead while all the trouble was happening in the opposite direction. He could make sure she knew what she needed to know, when she needed to know it. Right? Maybe, or maybe not. Maybe that was all bullshit and he was just tired and saving talking about Barney and the storm on the horizon for tonight. He took a deep breath, regretting his shaky deception before he had even begun it, "My arm, I forgot the pills. I thought there would be a pharmacy in the neighborhood."

She frowned and leaned forward, loosening the velcro on his brace, "You should take a break from this thing."

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her midway. She looked up at him, searching his eyes as he searched hers. She could see the uncertainty there. Whomever he had spoken to had shaken him, but just as her mind acknowledged what she was seeing something else slid across his features. It made them warm and soften. He had decided something, something about her, but it was twinged bittersweet. Before she could comment he leaned forward and kissed her, pushing her back into the bed. They made love but there was no hiding the goodbye in his touch and she couldn't help but feel it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

 _(Post-move, updated version)_

Natasha had finally given up trying to sleep and was pacing the halls of the hotel. It wasn't like Clint to keep secrets from her. Especially when the stakes were potentially so high. She rubbed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear, as she paced toward the stairs. She wanted to be angry with him. She wanted to wake him up and have him explain himself, but it was still too soon to know what to feel or think. Anyway, he could have a good reason for his silence. No, his _deception_ , come on and call it what it is Nat. She nearly scoffed out loud at how much the voice in her head sounded like Clint.

Her phone was set on vibrate and it began to stir in her jacket pocket. She looked at the number before answering, "Bruce."

"Natasha. Sorry I thought I could leave a voice-mail."

"I was awake. You have something?"

"Not much, an address that may or may not be legitimate."

"I'll take it." Bruce proceeded to give her the location he had narrowed down from multiple surveillance camera images of Barney coming and going from a small mom and pop shop. She pulled the multi-purpose hotel pen from her sweater pocket that she had grabbed just in case she needed a weapon, or a lock pick, or a utensil, and scribbled the address on the palm of her left hand. "So, how is it going? You find Barney?" He asked once he had finished.

"No sign of him but we've scouted the market and surroundings. We can work from there." She didn't bother to mention Clint probably knew a bit more than her at this point.

"I don't know if it's relevant but, two is an arrival time at the station."

She clicked the pen closed, "Could be. It's good to know. Thanks." They had already made note of the arrival and departure times, but there was no need to burst Banner's bubble.

"How are our implants holding up?" Bruce asked.

"What?" She slowed a step.

"Clint's aids, the external receivers. We don't have the kinks worked out of the kinetics. They have a limited charge but-"

"But you let him take them." Her words came out more as an accusation than she had intended.

"He asked for the afternoon to give them a test run. We didn't know he..." Bruce paused, "He didn't tell you?"

"He hinted..." She sighed, "Apparently you're not the only one off his need to know list."

"Natasha, I-"

"I should go." She cut him off. His voice was tinged with concern, or maybe it was sympathy. Whatever it was she didn't want to hear it.

"Alright, please tell him to keep them in, even if they go silent, and it was a stupid stunt, taking them like that. It could set us back."

"I'll let him know. Thanks Bruce."

"Good luck."

With that she hung up and found herself staring out the glass double front doors. She was staring across the street at the gap in the buildings where someone had been hiding last night. She pushed the doors open and wrapped her sweater tighter despite the warm night air. She stared at the dark space the smoker had resided in last night before stepping into the shadows herself. There wasn't much to see in the narrow alleyway. Some unidentifiable garbage, a solitary shoe, a piece of gum stuck to the bricks that she imagined had been placed there right before a hurried hidden kiss. But there was something else that caught her eye. A cigarette butt, a Marlboro, just like she had seen Barney smoking a couple months ago lay discarded near the lonely shoe. She picked it up as her eyes scanned the walls for something, anything. A dark slash across one of the bricks stood out. She leaned closer and rubbed her first three fingers across the mark. It lightly stained their tips with the distinct smell of burnt tobacco tar.

She looked up at their hotel window before looking back down the alley, slipping the discarded cigarette into her pocket. It could mean something. It could mean nothing. It didn't even narrow the shadow smoker down to Barney. He couldn't be the only person who smoked Marlboro cigarettes in Caracas, but it was all she had for now, and it did seem Barney's style to snuff out his cigarette in such a way that would mar the bricks. The man seemed incapable of leaving anything he touched untarnished. She walked back to the hotel, watching the windows above as she did.

It took her five minutes to get to their room, the hall light cut into the room as she entered and slid across Clint. She could see the moisture on his forehead from where she stood. Apparently his restless, panicked sleep hadn't stayed behind in New York. She walked closer to the bed. He shifted and took deep breaths, and she had no way of knowing if it was caused by his ever-present nightmares or his damaged arm. Which, free of the brace despite doctors orders to the contrary, was resting across a pillow on his lap. He was nearly sitting up, surrounded by more pillows in an attempt to rest comfortably and protect his stiff limb. He still looked like hell when he slept. All the stress he contained in the light of day seemed to puddle under his eyes as he slept, making them look bruised in the limited light. She looked away, slid off her sweater, and got in bed. Damn, she was tired. What was that line from the movie Casablanca? Something about the troubles of two people not amounting to a hill of beans in this crazy world. She shrugged inwardly, what did it matter.

She watched him sleep a moment before rolling over and resting on her side, turning away from him, and all the emotions seeing him stirred within her. She stared through the crack in the curtains where lights twinkled in the distance, behind the sharp edges of the closer buildings. Why the hell would he keep so many things from her? Why now when he needed her more than he would admit and she needed to help him more than she could say?

He hadn't been himself since Cross. Actually, for a lot longer than that. They had been through an extra ring of hell in the past few years and it seemed Clint was always getting a little extra jab. Loki and his mind control, the destruction he had caused with Clint by his side. Then of course there was Coulson's murder. The aftermath of which had haunted Clint. The fact that he blamed himself for what had happened to their team leader, their friend, and brother, and that he had been an unwilling hand in it, only made it worse. He had known Phil since he was eighteen, credited him with turning his life around, and loved him like the family he was. His absence had left a gaping hole in both their lives and she couldn't deny she had seen the damage done.

The forming of the Avengers had even come with a price. With the fall of SHIELD, her leaking their files, their lives had become a spectacle. All their secrets were public property, sold to the highest bidder. It was a shocking turn in the lives of two people who valued their secrets, who survived by them. Then, when it seemed there couldn't be anything worse than the constant stream of new, incredible bad guys, Cross had come along. With his personal vendetta he was less the super-villain with super-abilities and more your run of the mill, vengeful mad-man; but he had left a leveled ground in his wake all the same. The abduction, his injuries, seeing Barney again, Clint was still recovering from all of it. Was he just adjusting to the insanity by playing his cards close, even from her, or was there more to it? Was he choosing to pull away from her insted of leaning in? Had she been losing him little piece by little piece all along and was only now seeing how much was gone? As she drifted off to sleep a memory, a conversation with Barney, whispered through her consciousness too softly to be fully heard: _"...couldn't sleep...all those ghosts he invited, pullin' at my hair._ " *

*POV Shift*

Hours later Clint leaned over the mass of pillows he had collected around himself to look for Natasha. She was still out next to him, her back turned, making him rely on the slow rise and fall of her shoulder to tell him she was asleep. The sun was just breaking free of the horizon and amber hued light was sliding through the windows of their hotel room. Her hair glowed around the edges in the warm cast. He relaxed back into his pillows and stared at the ceiling. He had slept through most of the night and his body, unused to the hours of being still, protested. Every muscle was pulled tight.

Before long Barney's visit made a quick push to the front of his thoughts. He had to find out who had taken his girlfriend. Clearly Cross was involved, but who was taking up his cause here in Caracas? Was it one man or several? Could Cross have garnered that much of a following? He had been CIA. He would have connections. He could call in favors. Like he had told Clint, he had had the authority at one time to tell guys like him what to do. There were only a handful of people who could give Clint orders. It was a very small handful of a very few people that you very much did not want aiming for you or, by default, anyone you cared about. He swallowed down the stomach acid that already threatened to burn the back of his tonsils. He had to get up. He had to move and not just because his shoulder muscles felt tight enough to push his shoulder blade through his sternum.

He groaned involuntarily as he sat up. He peeked over his shoulder with a little effort, but thankfully he hadn't disturbed his partner. He stood and turned around to look at the morning view out the small gap in the curtains, but his eyes only made it as far as Natasha. Her left hand was resting, open, beside her and he could see from where he was standing something was written on her palm, an address. An address that hadn't been there when he had come in last night. He logged it to memory and moved on. Answers would come soon enough, or they wouldn't, either way all he cared about right now was a hot, muscle melting shower.

He made his way to the small, dim bathroom and started the water. When it was warm enough he stepped in and shivered as the scolding hot water toyed with his senses. His muscles tightened, then relaxed. He closed his eyes and took a deep, relieved breath, before holding it and stepping under the water. For a moment the outside world was gone, obliterated by this hot, pummeling bliss. He bent his head down and let his neck and shoulders get the full force of the water, leaning his left arm against the shower wall.

After a few minutes Natasha's voice came through the haze. "Morning."

He stepped back, spitting water from his lips, "Morning. I wake you?"

"No. How's the shower?" She was making small talk as she went through her morning routine. They had shared a life long enough now for all the rituals of waking up to be common place and comfortable.

"Good. Want me to save you some hot water?" He grabbed the miniscule hotel bar soap, his only option after attempting to open the Fort Knox of microscopic shampoo bottles, and scrubbed it across his hair one handed.

She bypassed his question, "Banner called last night. He gave me an address to check out."

"The one on your hand?" He had to call out slightly over the pounding water.

Natasha wasn't surprised he had noticed it, "Yeah. He also said it was a dumb-ass move sneaking off with their implants."

" _Their_ implants?" He shoved his soap-covered head back under the shower.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She had to ask.

"What?" He hadn't heard her clearly through the downpour. He stepped back and peeked out the curtain.

She caught his reflection in the mirror and turned to face him, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I would have. I-"

"When?"

"Nat, I-"

She couldn't swallow the hurt that was rising. He wouldn't have told her, not until she had noticed and called him out. She could see as much in the way he said that he would. It was one more lie, one more needless withholding of the truth. "I know. Since when do we keep secrets from each other?" She wasn't asking only about his implants and they both knew it.

"I didn't want you to worry." It was a lame excuse even to himself.

"Worry?" She stepped toward the shower, "When have you ever had to protect me from this? From anything?"

"Now. Right now, Tash." He looked at her sincerely, with only a hint of pleading. "Trust me."

She was silent a moment, "Give me a reason and I will." She waited and hoped, but he only watched her, stone-faced as water dripped from his earlobes, before finally saying, "We're partners. That's always been reason enough."

She dropped her head, immeasurably disappointed, before looking up. "Maybe it's not this time."

She walked away, dropping a small container of floss from her hand onto the counter before leaving the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she did. "Damn it." She cursed under her breath, while in the shower Clint echoed the sentiment.

*Break*

They left to look into the address banner had given them within the hour. It only took a quick, conversation free, ride across the city to get there. Nat was preparing herself to see Barney, to want to rip his throat out and make him tell her exactly what was happening. To make him look his brother in the eyes and tell him without bullshit, or mind games, just the truth. For once. She glanced at Clint. He was watching the passing streets and casually taking in the people in the rail-car with them. Not enough to rouse any suspicions, just enough that she could recognize what he was doing, what she was doing as well. Each passenger was being sized up, their faces memorized, and stored away.

He raised his chin, and spoke to her for the first time since they had jumped onboard. "I think this is our stop." The car came to a halt, and he stood, shifting his sweaty t-shirt underneath the arm brace as he made his way down the steps in front of her.

They walked a little ways down the sidewalk, he in front, her watching him as he watched the numbers on the buildings. He finally stopped in front of a gaping hole in the row of businesses. Before him was a boarded off pile of ash and rubble. He looked back at her, "Found it."

She caught up to him. "That could complicate things."

"Think he just needs help filing an insurance claim?" He tried for levity, but when she stared ahead at the rubble, unamused, he dropped it. Looking at the destroyed structure made it a little easier for him to trust Barney's story. At least he could believe someone had blown up the place and most likely it wasn't Barney himself. He wasn't committed to too many details beyond that.

"What are you thinking?" She looked between Clint, the pile, and the street around them. He was clearly distracted, lost in his own head for a moment. She watched him processing his thoughts, weighing his words. She could see his poorly veiled uncertainty when he finally said, "I guess we keep looking."

"Any ideas where we should start?"

He shrugged before beginning to squeeze through the boards with some effort. She watched as he stuck stuck his head out, "Coming?" and disappeared back into the shell of a building.

She took a quick glance around before following him in. "Sure, fine. Why not." She said to herself alone as she came through the boards and looked around what used to be Barney's shop. There was little left to look at. The side exterior brick walls were black and only a few structural beams had survived the inferno. It was a miracle the neighboring buildings hadn't been destroyed as well. There were some solid puddles of melted metal here, a puddle of marbleized glass there, but beyond that, what had been was nothing more than ash and unidentifiable debris.

"It was an intense fire." She picked up a small metallic pancake, and turned it over in her hand. Whatever it had been was beyond recognition.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Clint asked. She shook her head no and continued to look around, "You remember the bomb guy in Tokyo?"

"The clock maker? Uhm, what was his name, Yu-"

"Yoshida. His work was this precise." He pointed around the solid neighboring walls, "Incinerating everything in a very small location but leaving what he didn't want damaged, nearly untouched."

"I remember. I remembering bringing him in too. He should be a mile underground surrounded by armed guards." She watched the few burnt beams that hung over their heads.

He followed her line of sight, "Doesn't mean anything with SHIELD in pieces."

She looked at him, "You really think he would be working here though, targeting your brother?" She dropped the metal pancake, and dusted her hands off.

"Sure. If the payment was large enough."

Her hands stopped moving as her mind snapped with concern. If Clint had talked to Barney last night and his mind went there, hell if his mind went there after talking to whomever he had last night, they were in deep. They were into something that they hadn't been prepared for. This wasn't Barney playing at something. This was as bad as her worst fears, if not worse. "What are you thinking?"

Clint continued looking around the demolished building, intentionally avoiding eye contact, "Cross. Maybe. Seems a long-shot but..." He wanted to say more. He wanted to tell her Barney's story. The box and the note. His girlfriend being abducted and their expected child. He wanted to tell her about the exchange, that he was probably being set up for disaster, but saw no other way through it than to walk headfirst in. He wanted to tell her all of that and that he didn't want her to be a part of it, that he wanted her to walk away. But she wouldn't listen. She couldn't walk away from him any more than he could her.

"We have to find out if Barney...if he was here when..." she looked around the buildings sparse remains. Her immediate thought being if Barney was gone, there was no one to save, and no reason to stay.

"Should be easy enough." His thoughts were still elsewhere. He had seen all he needed to and all the doubt and questions it stirred up for Natasha were nothing compared to the heavy weight of fate he found growing with every moment he looked at the perfectly decimated structure. "Let's go. There's nothing here."

She followed as he slipped back through the boards to the sidewalk. He took a deep breath of ash-free air as he exited in front of her and scanned the surrounding streets, and buildings. She stepped out beside him and squinted in the sunlight.

"Local P.D. then?" She asked as she scanned her garments. They would need the police report, as well as the coroners findings. That was if the coroner had needed to file a report.

"Go ahead, let me know what you find. I think I'll see what I can dig up about Yoshida."

She straightened, "I don't think we should separate."

He turned to her, "It'll be fine."

"You seem really sure of that and I have no idea what you're basing it on." He frowned but remained silent, "Clint, look." She gestured behind them, "If you know something now is the time to tell me." She shifted when he remained quiet a beat too long. "Otherwise all I have are my instincts and they are screaming that this is too big and we are too blind, to be anywhere near here tomorrow." She took a deep breath and looked around them. "We need to leave. Barney would do the same without batting a lash and you know it. We can always mount a rescue if he's ali-"

He stepped closer, "I can't Nat." He put his hand on her arm, "You can. You should."

She stepped back, frustration on her face as she scanned his eyes. "You know I can't leave you to, to..." She floundered for words.

He sideways grinned, "Yeah, well, it never hurts to remind you of the option." He started to walk away and she watched him a moment before following.

"What's your play?" She would have to shift her approach on this. She needed more answers and his attempts to push her away, juxtaposed to the threat that had suddenly become all too clear, only convinced her they didn't have time to dance around the truth any longer.

"My play?" His feigned innocence bordered on a confession of guilt.

"You're what, going to keep me in the dark? Hope I chase whatever light you choose to throw my way." She walked up to him, "It's more than you can take on alone. Barney may not even be...and you are still going to stick your neck out and see what happens?"

He was watching her now, "You'll have me covered. North building, center, remember."

"Right, north building, center. Tucked away nice and neat. You think this may be Cross, that he's pulling in people like Yoshida? What makes you think you stand a chance tomorrow? You need a better plan." _You need to let me in._ She looked away from him, point made, as a much needed breeze rolled through the street.

He watched her a minute as she fought the tendrils of hair being blown into her eyes, and wrapped around her face. He understood her frustration, her fears, but he wouldn't let her get involved in this any more than she was. Not for him, not for his brother, not again. She could not understand his motives, she could hate him for his lies if thats what it took, but it was the way it had to be. "Barney's alive. I've seen him and he's in a lot of trouble, more trouble than he has any chance of surviving on his own. I won't leave him to find a way through it." He rubbed his hand along his hair, "I won't. I'll be here tomorrow. Working the only plan I have. You just have to trust me and have my back on this one."

She leveled a gaze on him that would have made most men squirm, "I _always_ have your back. But what if you end up with a bullet before you can help him? Before we can stop it? No one plays fair." She held his eyes and added before walking away, "No one." It was a blatant threat to his plotting behind her back. Two could play that game, and she was better at than him in many ways.

He didn't follow her and she didn't turn back around. She had all the answers she needed for now. It was time to make the call she had been resisting for weeks.

 _*A/N: The conversation with Barney Natasha is remembering is from chapter 6 of Bird On The Wire. It may make for an interesting read if you have a minute, and you're hungry for a bite of Barney/Clint backstory._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

She walked across the street, far away from Clint, before finding a spot to hide and watch. He was turned, looking back at the building's shell when a man approached him. They began to talk, clearly discussing the building.

She pulled out her phone. It was time. She took a deep breath. She was not looking forward to this call.

They had had suspicions ever since Barney claimed a man in a suit and shades had dropped him in their laps during Clint's abduction. Then when Clint found a service medal in his belongings at the hospital, one he recognized almost immediately, it had seemed more possible. It was too much to hope for though and the questions it would raise had kept her from pursuing any answers. Now, out of something akin to desperation she would make the call that could turn hers, as well as Clint's worlds upside down. She dialed in the number that she had been so careful to memorize and never write down or save in her phone. As it began to ring on the other side, she took another deep breath, and peeked around the corner to look at Clint.

"Widow." Fury sounded less than pleased to hear from her. No doubt he knew that if she was calling some kind of shit was hitting some kind of fan.

"If you have any way of contacting Coulson now would be a good time. Clint needs him to be in Caracas, Venezuela before tomorrow. Hotel Pestana Caracas, under the name Briggs."

"Coulson's gon..."

"Sure. I'm just saying."

"Well then, if you're just saying. I'll just see if I can dig up a quija board and commune with the spirits. Should I bother asking what's happening?"

"No. Thank you Director."

"I'm not the director anymore. That title belongs to a ghost." Before she could say anything Fury asked, "He know you're making this call?"

"No."

"Thought so. Before tomorrow then." Fury knew their dynamic better than most. If Clint was in a bad spot and she was making calls for help behind his back, well, the sooner help arrived the better. The line went dead without another word.

Natasha looked up just in time to see Clint run across the street and in her direction. She tucked farther into her hiding spot as he quickly walked by. She waited a moment to step out and follow him. It was all the time he needed to melt into the crowd and disappear. He had known she was behind him. After a futile search she decided it was best to do what she had planned with or without him. She headed to the local police station to check their reports.

It was easy enough to get information once she made up a story about being an investigative reporter searching for a link between several explosions that were wrapped around the continent like a string of pearls. Between her cover and a flirtatious fidget of her necklace she had all the information she could gather quickly. The authorities were blaming the explosion on a gas line break. Arson would be investigated, but officially none was suspected. It was an incident destined to be forgotten amongst higher priority cases. It was a blessing no bodies were found, and the couple that the neighbors had reported living there, had never come forward or been found. They were expatriates and it was assumed they had simply moved without telling anyone.

It was not Barney's name in the report but the sketch of the pair included in the file left no doubt that it was him. Satisfied that he had at least lived there, and curious about the mysterious woman, Natasha moved on to looking into the business' paper-trail. If he had really been running a legitimate business there would be lots of registrations and tax forms with his name or alias across them. Not to her surprise all the filed documentation for that address didn't have Barney's name or any alias she had heard him use before. He was running the place under a tight second alias while giving his neighbors the first. Annoyed that she was getting answers but none that were helpful she stepped out of the dusty records office. It was already afternoon. Less than twenty four hours before Clint would walk into the market and whatever lay beyond.

She thought of what she had said to him, what good would all his searching do, what satisfactory answers could they find when he was clearly stepping into a trap. She knew she was right now more than ever. Her day of research hadn't been helpful. Barney had seemed to be turning his life around. Aside fom the shady alias' there was nothing to suggest his business was anything more than what it was. At least he seemed to be keeping his nose clean. She hadn't even found a speeding ticket in his record for the past couple years.

Whatever trouble Barney had gotten into, whatever he was pulling Clint into, it was bigger than some small time crime scene. She should have known. Clint had said as much, but she had had doubts. His source had been Barney after all. But he wouldn't ask Clint to help him with something he could handle himself. He had lived his life running one bad con, one short game, after another. He knew how to save his own ass, and the last person he would want help from, normally, was his little brother. All signs were pointing to a threat greater than Clint's brother could ever hope to be.

She clenched her jaw. She was no closer to having information that would help them avert the snare Clint seemed determined to walk into. She needed to find him. Maybe they could at least compromise on a course of action.

She had never hoped more that Phil Coulson was alive, and she had already hoped for that with every cell of her being.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

 _*Just a heads-up, Barney is here and with him comes foul language._

While Natasha was looking into Barney, Clint was meeting with him as they had planned the night before. Except Barney was currently thirty minutes late. Sitting in the hot sun, sweat running down his back, Clint was torn between annoyance and concern. He shifted on the park bench as the ache in his arm went from background noise to ever more present as the time ticked by in this new level of humidity. A shadow fell across him and he was surprised to find he hadn't noticed his brother's approach. Barney slid onto the bench, thoughtlessly bumping into Clint's arm as he did. "Miss me?"

Clint cursed under his breath as the hit ricocheted, "Thought we agreed to meet at one."

Barney looked at a watch that wasn't there, "So I'm late. You got other places to be Frannie?"

He could think of a few names he'd like to call him as a non-answer to his non-question, but let it go. "So why are you late?"

"Don't worry about it." When Clint was clearly not taking that for an answer, he added. "It didn't have anything to do with you."

Clint watched him squirm a moment before moving on, "I saw your shop today."

"You mean what's left of it. What a fuckin' waste."

"I saw your neighbor too. He thinks a lot of you."

"Who Ricky? He's senile. He doesn't know what he's sayin' half the time."

"He's worried about you."

"Yeah, well that's nice. Pointless and all, but nice."

"It's good you know, having people care about you." It was amazing how hard that could be to realize.

"Sure." Barney shifted uncomfortably. "You wanna talk shop or tickle my titties all day?"

Clint shook his head and looked away, "And to think you rub people the wrong way."

"Mystery of my life."

Clint watched him a moment. Barney wasn't about to let the conversation get into his personal life beyond the situation at hand. That door was closed and locked from the inside. If Clint were honest, he completely understood it. "So, have you heard from them?"

"Nah."

"Nothings changed?"

"Nope."

"Where do they want you tomorrow?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. To get your girlfriend once...once I'm in the market." He would need to ask Natasha to stay with Barney. To make sure the exchange happened, if he couldn't. After all, his gamble would be for nothing if the woman caught in the middle was lost. If she wasn't already.

Barney was silent, absently picking at his fingernails. Clint watched him a moment, "They haven't set up an exchange? A meeting place?"

"Nooope." Barney popped the "p" and looked up and into the distance.

He was lying. He had to be. It didn't make sense that they wouldn't have set up an exchange and that Barney would accept it without question. "What are you hiding?"

"A lot, but nothing you need to know."

He sat up a little straighter, "You better give me something. I got next to no trust as it is." He watched Barney avoid eye contact before finally saying, "Work with me or I'm out."

Barney scoffed, "Sure. So you can save your own ass and let us be damned."

"You have a lot of balls..." He dropped his head, clenched his jaw, and took a deep breath. "I'm trying to help the both of you." Did he really need to point that out?

"And you want to save your own ass."

"Yes. Shit Barnes, yeah I wanna save my own ass! You blame me?" He looked around and lowered his voice, "But damn it, I wouldn't risk her life to do it. Or yours." He leaned forward to make Barney look him in the eyes, "What's going on?"

Barney slumped back in the bench, "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"The truth. You got a question or should I pull somethin' outta my ass?"

"Where do they want you to be tomorrow to get her back?" Clint repeated the question. It shouldn't have been such a difficult thing for him to answer.

Barney watched him a moment, weighing his options. He shifted, "They'll drop her at my place after..." Barney trailed off.

"After?"

He looked Clint in the eyes, "They want me to come with you. To be in the market. I don't know why, I swear."

Clint shifted in his seat and pulled on the brace straps. The last minute change of demands could mean anything from Barney's girlfriend was gone and they were scrambling or her abductors were simply toying with them because they could. Keeping them off balance, uncertain. Whatever the reason it didn't add up to anything good, "Shit."

"We're fucked right." Barney rubbed his hand through his hair and down his face.

Clint leaned farther forward, resting his elbow on his knee. Natasha could cover him, between the two of them he stood a chance of getting through whatever would come, but if he had to watch out for Barney all of their odds plummeted. "It's not good."

Barney watched him. Clint looked tired, he stared off and his eyes looked nearly as old or older than his own. He suddenly felt the distance between them. Somewhere along the way the kid he had felt so responsible for that it had sucked the youth from his marrow, had become a lightning rod for all his anger and frustration. It was an anger time had only seemed to intensify until a couple years ago when he had begun to get his own life together. As he stared at Clint now, with eyes free of some of that old hate, it was clear the kid he had been was long gone. He was looking at a burnt-out, tired man. A man who would ask no one for help, who would lean on no one but those closest to him, and maybe not even then. It was in no small measure because of Barney and he couldn't deny it. "I'm sorry Fran...Clint."

Clint leaned back, "I can't even tell you how strange that sounds."

"I really am. I never meant to-" he struggled to find the right words. Sentiment was a foreign language.

"You never do." He clenched his jaw, looked down and up. His words had sounded too close to self-pity for his liking. "It doesn't matter now." He didn't want apologies or deep meaningful conversations either. They could get into that after the storm had passed. If they were still standing.

Barney watched him. "Sure. Sure, yeah."

Clint was planning the next day, weighing their options, and Barney's unexpected apology was already pushed aside. "You'll have to be at the market tomorrow. There's no other choice. Nat will be watching us, she'll be on coms so I should know what she sees when she sees it. If I tell you to do something you do it. Got me?"

"Got it."

"Don't try to pull a rabbit out of your hat." He stared him down a beat.

Barney smirked, "Like I got a damn rabbit."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you have a litter." Clint looked off. A sparrow was fighting a jay off of its nest in one of the trees across from them. He was momentarily transfixed by the fight.

Watching him, Barney asked, "How are you doin'?" He couldn't stop seeing the weariness in Clint's eyes now that he had acknowledged it. For all their troubled history Clint was still his little brother. It was a feeling he had tuned out, an emotion he had pushed away, but in this moment when Clint was clearly struggling in front of him in a dozen tiny ways, he couldn't deny he still cared.

Clint looked at him, his eyes going up and down his form, as if he was suspicious of the sentiment. As if there was some ulterior motive that would show itself in his body language. Why the hell else would Barney suddenly give a damn how he was doing? He looked away, "Doing great."

"Yeah I can tell."

Clint looked at him again. He seemed genuinely interested. It was thoughtfulness he hadn't seen in his brother for a long time, not sincerely anyway, and it threw him off. "You really wanna know Barnes? I'm fucking exhausted."

"You look like hell."

"Well, at least that's an improvement." He looked away.

"You know I wouldn't have pulled you into this if I saw another way."

"How hard did you look?" He shook his head, there wouldn't have been any way for Barney to save his girlfriend on his own. Even if he had actually tried.

"You got friends in high places, man. I thought you'd bust into this with a small army. How was I supposed to know you'd be the same old stubborn, self-sacrificing ass you've always been?"

"That your way of thanking me?"

"No, that's my way of calling you stupid." One side of Barney's mouth was turned up into a grin.

Clint seethed a moment before bursting into a bitter grin as well. "Guess it runs in the family."

"That's for fucking sure." Barney elbowed him slightly while pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting it up. Clint watched the tip turn to embers before looking away.

Clint's mind went back to the problem at hand instinctively. "How are these guys talking to you anyway?"

Barney inhaled. When he spoke smoke tumbled out of his mouth, "Notes, slapped in my hand out of the blue. Pretty sure they're watching me all the time, paying passers-by to deliver 'em."

"Smart."

Barney shrugged, unimpressed, "Old-school."

Clint looked around. They were no doubt being watched. Their meeting last night was probably seen, him dining with Natasha before that, which had lead to the change in plans. They would be following her too if they had enough men. He suddenly felt the need to wrap things up and find her. There was no more keeping her away from this. It would be more dangerous for her now if he tried. He should have known. He stood, "I have to find Natasha." He looked down at Barney, "You might as well stay with me."

"Oh, She'll be happy to see me." Barney stood as well, flicking his cigarette ashes, "Lead the way."

Clint didn't move. He had to make something clear here and now, before Natasha was near enough to hear. "If anything happens to her...Barney I...you had better stay away from me. You had better disappear for a while."

Barney sucked in and exhaled over Clint's head, "That's the plan."

"Really?" Why was he surprised? "Good. We're clear then."

"Crystal." Barney bit his lip and looked away, smoke barreling out his nose. Whatever emotional reconnection they had just had took a hit by Clint's warning and Barney's admission. He pulled out his phone but the battery was dead. "Damn." Barney looked over his shoulder before backing off and looking back around the park.

Clint turned around to look at him, "Guess we start at the hotel."

Barney shrugged and made a mock step-aside, with the wave of his arm, _lead the way._ Clint walked passed him and toward the hotel. It was a short walk from the city park and they had only made it within a few doors when Barney spoke up, "Isn't that her?"

Clint turned to look where he was gesturing. Sure enough Natasha was across the street from the hotel and walking toward them. How had he missed seeing her before Barney? He was really slipping. She was staring behind him, directly at his brother. She had the look on her face that she usually reserved for someone about to get their ass handed to them in a basket. Clint stopped, "Nat." He said once she was within range.

"I see you found him." She was still glaring at Barney who was standing beside Clint now.

"Yeah. We-"

"Natasha." Barney said. Clint didn't need to turn to see the smirk on his face, he could hear it clearly enough.

"You have a lot to explain." Natasha glanced between he and Clint.

"Do I?" Barney claimed the accusation.

She looked to Clint, "Should we go inside?" She assumed that's where they were headed.

"Yeah." Clint answered.

With that she turned and the trio walked to the hotel and inside, up to their room. Once through the door Natasha turned on Barney, "Talk." She dropped the copied documents, and news articles she had collected onto the nearby stand. Barney glanced their way but didn't give them much care.

Clint leaned against the small chair tucked into the corner of the room and watched the exchange. Barney owed her some answers and he wasn't about to get in the way. Not when he owed her just as much if not more than that.

Barney grinned obnoxiously, "What'ya want to know sweetcheeks?"

"Watch it Barnes." Clint piped up from across the room.

"Why are we here for a start?" She crossed her arms.

"He didn't tell you anything?" He looked around her toward Clint and laughed.

Natasha leaned in front of him, "Why don't you."

He watched her a beat, "Somebody has my girl. They want Clint for her. Bing-bang-boom, here we are."

She turned around and looked at Clint, he dropped his head. "And you're doing it? The meet-up in the market is a switch-off?"

He looked up at her and took a deep breath, "Something like that. There's no other way."

"Really? No other way? You're sure?" She turned back to Barney, "And you let him step into this? Do you see the shape he's in?"

"Hey I'm right here." Clint said unheard across the room.

Barney raised his hands, "In my defense I thought he would have enough brains to not go at it alone."

She turned back around, "I can not believe Barney has more sense than you right now. I'm calling the others in."

Clint stood, hand out, "Don't. Listen. We're being watched. If they see Rogers, or Stark...They'll do whatever they have to do to get what they want. You saw Barney's place. Who's to say they wouldn't take out a city block." He shifted, "We've done enough damage lately. Let's just keep this small. Barney and I will go in. You'll follow, track down...what's your girlfriends name Barnes?"

"Mara."

"Track down Mara, and we'll get out. Take some bad guys with us. Simple."

She watched him, "Simple. Except you're their end goal right? They won't keep you alive to get to something else. What makes you think you'll have a chance to get out of this once it starts?"

"There's always a chance."

"Bullshit." She glanced at Barney before looking back to Clint. Speaking in a hushed tone she said, "What if Mara is-?"

Clint cut her off, "We have to try."

"This is beyond stupid and you know it."

"She's pregnant Nat." Her eyes widened at his words and she turned to Barney. "You are a piece of work."

"I love her." Barney said.

"It shows." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "This idiocy is spreading." She looked at Clint, "Where do you want me tomorrow?"

"Same spot. North-"

"Center building. Got it."

"You know the drill. Be our eyes. Watch our backs and wait."

"I'm taking anyone out who makes a lethal move. Period."

"Just don't be jumpy on the trigger. We need to get as far in as we can."

"He's with you then? In the market." She gestured toward Barney.

"He is now. They switched plans on him."

"Why the change?"

"I don't know exactly but it's pretty clear he's being watched."

"And they saw you speaking with each other last night..."

"Yeah, but I think it's more that he was following us, they were following him, and they probably saw you and I together."

"Shit." Natasha walked over to the window. Any slight advantage they could have had was lost. They had been too sloppy.

Barney watched her walk away and looked at Clint. He raised his eyebrows, "If she's nervous, I'm scared."

Before Clint could respond she turned around. Speaking to Clint she said, "You think this is Cross working from prison?"

"That or someone following a plan he had already set in motion."

"You find out anything about Yoshida?"

"Just that he's out. No location, no appearances, but I still think it was his bomb that took out the building."

"Are you thinking he made it but someone else planted it?"

"Yeah, there's a handful of people that came south to set up shop after SHIELD went down. We could be dealing with any one of them."

"Or all."

"Cross was CIA. Not everybody will work with him."

"Does that mean you've narrowed down a list?"

"Just of who we can count out."

She stepped away from the window, "We should order something to eat. There's nothing to do for now but stick together and talk in circles." She crossed the room and went into the restroom, closing the door behind her.

Clint rubbed his hand across his hair before rubbing it down his face and looking at Barney. "You want some pizza?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The afternoon passed into evening just as Natasha had expected. They talked over and over about their plan for the next day and about the things they knew versus didn't. Clint and Barney would enter the market around two. She would be in her planned spot half an hour ahead of time, watching and waiting. If they were taken to another location she would follow and watch from a distance. If she saw any sign of Mara she was to follow her. If not she would wait and watch while Clint worked on getting the three of them out, together. He was determined to hang in there long enough to bring Mara home, and to discover who was behind it all.

If it was a setup for an execution Clint would have his SHIELD issued, Tony updated armor vest and would be safe from a shot to the chest. Not that they would aim for anything other than his head, but he looked for comfort where he could. Barney would be out of luck, though Clint had offered his gear, he had surprisingly declined. Natasha's suspicion was he knew he wouldn't need it. But she was trying to give him a chance, for Clint. Even still she would keep her eye on the older Barton as much as whoever else showed up at the market tomorrow.

They called it a night around midnight. Reluctantly they gave Barney the key to the second room they had rented for cover and he left, taking the last slice of pizza with him. "I don't trust him." Natasha said as soon as the door was closed.

"Since when?" Clint mocked.

"He's up to something."

"Probably." He started to undress.

She took a deep breath, "I guess we don't have much choice at this point but to go with the plan as it is."

He slowly took his shirt off. "That's what plans are for."

She searched his eyes, "How are you so calm about this?"

"I don't know. Only card I have at this point."

"You are a freak of nature Barton."

He shrugged and walked over to her, "You deal with me."

"Barely." She smiled for an instant.

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep you out of this." He wrapped his arm around her waist.

She grew serious, "I never wanted out."

"I know, but I wanted-"

"I know what you wanted. To take on the world single-handedly..." she gently touched his busted arm, "I know how you are. We're too much the same."

"Yeah but you would have played it smarter."

"Probably...but then I am smarter than you." She grinned. It was much needed levity with all that stretched before them.

He grinned back at her. "Don't give yourself too much credit Romanoff. You've stayed with me. Not the wisest move on your part." He walked over to the bed and grabbed the brace he had been taking a break from, "Give me a hand?"

She walked over to him by the bed and went through what had become choreographed. "Don't be a hero tomorrow."

"Never." He lifted his good arm as she brought one strap around his torso. He watched her, she was so close that her hair lightly brushed his chin.

She looked up, lips nearly on his cheek, "I'm serious Clint. Rely on me more than you'll want to."

He looked in her eyes a moment before answering, "I will."

Finished, she stepped back."I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

"We keep pushing our luck." She folded her arms.

"There's no such thing as luck." She didn't respond as he stepped toward her and moved as if to rub her cheek but didn't, "I wish I could convince you to run away with me."

She frowned, "You're so sure we would know how to live as anything other than...other than what we are."

"I'm not, but I'd like to find out." She looked away, he stepped close again. "We could do it. It's just a matter of trying."

"And wanting."

"And you don't." He watched her a moment as she searched his eyes in turn. They were in a tug of war with life. What they wanted versus what they could have, what they were afraid to have. It was just a matter of letting go and they would be free of the struggle, but both were holding on too tightly to see it. He leaned forward and kissed her. "You know I lo-"

"Stop." She put her hand on his chest.

He backed away and smiled. The familiar, playful argument, relieving the tension that had built up. "You'll let me say it one of these days."

"Don't bet on it Hawk." She gave him a little grin.

They got into bed soon after. Neither one slept but stared at the ceiling in silence. Their thoughts were screaming while their fears were silenced, sitting like a well-trained guard dog, watching and waiting to act when called on. Natasha rolled over and wrapped her leg around Clint's. Anything could happen tomorrow. It was a situation they had faced time and again to one extent or another. They lived, it seemed, balanced on a cliff. This time though it was personal. This time she doubted if Clint could judge the situation clearly, but what frightened her more so, was she doubted her judgment as well. He was giving himself to this, and she had sworn to herself to be the clear, level-headed one. To be the one to get them both through this, but she wasn't. She couldn't be. She hated Barney in so many ways and for so many reasons that it blinded her more than she would want to admit. She didn't have love to balance her anger like Clint. Her only love, her only allegiance was to the man beside her. She looked to him, he was staring at the ceiling, "Clint..."

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. She wanted to say it, that word, that one forbidden word. She wanted him to hear it from her lips though he knew how she felt. Didn't he? "Yeah?" He said when she was silent too long.

She clenched her jaw, shut down the feelings that had made her first speak, and looked away. "You're burning a hole in the ceiling." But he had seen it. He knew what she had wanted to say. He closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep until exhaustion finally took all effort away.

*Break*

Barney was up early. He could barely sleep through the night and now that daylight was making its first weak attempt at pushing back the darkness he gave up and decided to grab a breakfast for everyone. It would be a nice surprise after all and a gesture of good faith. A "we're in this together gang" kind of move. He would grab his favorite breakfast from his favorite spot, a good cup of coffee each, and maybe a flower for Natasha.

That was the plan, but he had only gotten as far as the food when a car pulled up beside him and a woman stepped out. "Barthole-"

"Barney. 'member?" He interrupted her. He hated his first name as much as Clint hated his second.

"Have a seat." She gestured to the car, and in doing so revealed a handgun tucked into her waistband.

"My breakfasts gonna get cold. I don't suppose-"

"Get in the car." She interrupted him again.

He leaned into the car reluctantly and it was only her leaning into him that pushed him the rest of the way in. Once inside she sat beside him and sat the gun across her thigh, hand still on the grip. "You spent the night with your brother."

"Yeah. He's nervous. Didn't want to separate."

"Did you tell him anything?"

"Nah." They didn't need to know what he had or hadn't said. The only part he had left out when he had talked to Clint was that he knew exactly why he was going to be in the market tomorrow.

"You're sure? No one would blame you for giving him a little brotherly warning."

"We don't have that kind of relationship."

She watched him, eyes narrow, "Just in case, we made a little change to the plan."

"Oh yeah?" He looked around the street.

She leaned across him and pulled a syringe from the glove compartment, grabbing his attention. She let it sit in her open palm, "Slip this to him."

"How the hell am I supposed to...when? I mean, come on." He was reeling. Hopefully it wasn't too obvious.

"I don't care how. Just make sure you've done it by one o'clock." They suspected he was working with Clint, and he was as much as he could, but he had hoped they hadn't seen it that way.

"Okay, sure. What is it?" He was faking indifference poorly.

She smiled, "Just a precaution." She handed it over and popped open the door once he had taken it. She stepped out of the car. Barney watched her without moving. He looked down at the syringe filled with amber liquid. What was he going to do?

She leaned down and looked at him, "Time to go Barton. We'll see you at two. Don't keep your little Mary waiting." Her smile was gone.

"Mara." Barney said though he knew she wasn't listening and didn't care. He took a deep breath and stuck the vial in his pocket before sliding out of the car. When he was face to face with the blonde henchman he said, "Nice to see you again Conrad. Always such a good time."

She smirked but said nothing before sliding back into the car and closing the door. He watched as she pulled away. So much for good intentions. Breakfast was cold and he was going to have to betray Clint one more time. Damn it all to hell.

*Break*

Judging by the look on Clint and Natasha's face when Barney knocked on their hotel room door they had been up and watching for him. He slid into the room, displaying the bag of food, "Breakfast."

"We told you not to leave the hotel." Natasha remained where she was, leaning against the dresser, arms crossed. Clint seemed relieved though, as if some argument had been settled in his favor by Barney's appearance, and walked toward him. "What is it?" He leaned in to take a sniff from the bag, "Smells good."

Barney glanced at Natasha while opening the bag, "Arepas stuffed with scrambled eggs." He took one out and handed it to Clint. He took another out and walked over to Nat, "Breakfast?"

She took the egg filled bread, "Thank you." She frowned, "It's cold." It was more an accusation than complaint and he heard it all too clearly.

He shrugged, "Air conditioning."

"Were you in the elevator for twenty minutes?"

He looked over at Clint who didn't seem to be paying attention to what they were talking about. His head was turned slightly and he had an odd distant look, as if he were listening for something outside the room.

Barney didn't know what to say. The syringe in his pocket suddenly felt like it weighed twenty pounds. Natasha was watching but when he didn't come up with a quick response, an instant cover story, she let it go. Typically if he were hiding something he would be all too fast to keep it concealed. His fumble actually played in his favor. "Thank you." She said before taking a bite.

"Yeah, yeah. You're welcome." He took the last arepas and began eating.

"So Nat." After a few minutes of everyone eating in silence Clint spoke up around a mouthful. "I think you should head over to the market sooner than later."

She stopped mid-bite, "How much sooner?"

"We'll need the glove." He added, seeming to ignore her question. She didn't respond but watched him. The _glove_ was their alternative to two-way coms. Clint would wear a full arm-length sleeve, usually only on his right hand though a pair had been created, that was programmed to translate spoken tactical information from standard coms into vibrational signals and squeezing sensations along Clint's hand and arm. It was safe to assume if he was wanting to use it his implants were out or on their way.

She glanced at Barney, who was oblivious, before looking to Clint. She waited to make sure he was looking at her before she spoke, "So we're going silent?"

Clint swallowed, "Looks like. You'll have to find a new spot." The gloves were an amazing piece of work. One they had both been extremely excited about, but in an odd moment of short-sightedness SHIELD decided they couldn't spend more time on developing tech for one team, or one agent. The gloves were left less than perfect. Their usage range was limited and Natasha would need to be closer to the ground. It was a scenario he had considered when they initially scouted the market. "Same building. There's an empty apartment three floors down from the top. Should work but you'll need to make sure."

He continued to casually eat his breakfast, as if they weren't talking about anything of any significance. He looked nearly bored but he held her eyes for a moment longer than normal before glancing over to Barney. His brother didn't know anything about his hearing loss and he planned on keeping it that way. Maybe it was foolish pride, maybe it was survival instinct. Either way he didn't feel Barney needed to know, that it was safer if he didn't. Natasha understood.

"Alright." She put her breakfast down. Unlike Clint she had lost her appetite.

That Barney noticed, "Don't like it?"

"I'm not a breakfast person." She glanced at Clint before walking over to her luggage. Barney shrugged, "So what are we doin' different Franny?" Clint didn't respond. He was watching Natasha. She caught the missed question and raised her eyebrows and nodded toward Barney. Clint followed her cue and asked Barney, "What's that?"

"Well if Natasha's going early what are we doin' different?"

"Nothing."

"Okaay, So why is she switching it up?" What could he say, he was paranoid. Had they seen the exchange earlier?

"Plans change. Don't worry."

"Yeah, well, generally when people tell me not to worry I have something to worry about."

"Not this time." Clint put his breakfast down, slapped Barney on the shoulder, and walked over to Natasha. Barney watched him, "Uhuh."

They had nearly eight hours before what was going to happen, was going to happen. Eight hours and at some point he would have to give Clint whatever was in his pocket. He watched the way he and Natasha interacted. They had that obvious inseparable bond that comes with time and mutual respect. Some would call it love. Barney swallowed his last bite, when all was said and done Natasha was going to kill him for pulling Clint into this. He was a dead man walking. His only hope at this point was the same couldn't be said for his little brother.

 _*a/n: If you're curious about the woman who gave Barney the syringe, please look up Marvel's Wendy Conrad a.k.a Bombshell. It'll be fun. I promise. Also, a side-note here. I'm not happy with this chapter as it is but I have tried and tried to rework it and it doesn't help. I feel like I have to just throw it out there to move forward. I may be able to come back and clean it up once we go farther into events but for now it is what it is. Thanks for understanding and please be kind ; )_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Natasha was getting ready to leave early to check out the alternative location Clint had spotted. If she could use it she would get settled in, if not she would need time to find another spot. For now though she was helping Clint put the arm length glove on before she left. They had decided the only way to pull it off, to not make anyone too suspicious was if he had it on his right hand. It would be tucked into the brace and could nearly pass as part of it. It was less than ideal but it would have to work.

Barney walked over to the pair, "So this thing is so nobody can hear sweet-cheeks chirping in your ear?" He shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Something like that." Clint answered him with a pained grunt. It was proving next to impossible to put the glove on with him unable to lift his arm to pants-pocket height on his own. It was already like trying to get into a wetsuit a size too small at the best of times. After a couple minutes of pushing and pulling, he was fairly certain they were tearing a good deal of the surgeons work to hell.

"I'll still have the standard com. I'll be listening." Natasha wanted to make sure Barney was aware. "This should just..." She looked at Clint who was cursing under his breath, "keep the line open."

Barney bobbed his head, "Makes sense." Not really, but whatever, he didn't care. He grinned at Clint, "Looks ridiculous though."

"We can't all look as cool as you Barnes." Clint gave a quick grin in return but it slipped away as soon as it appeared. He was seconds away from taking a break when Natasha brought the glove up and over his shoulder at last. He took a breath and grabbed the strap that dangled behind his back and brought it around his chest to snap it to the front.

Barney continued to watch. He was starting to take in the scars that littered Clint's torso, chest, and arm. Some had been there for a lifetime, inflicted at far too young an age. Those he remembered too easily for comfort, but most were a mystery. Random emblems of the cost of the life he lead. He winced without realizing it as a pang of guilt shot through him and he could swear they must have heard the syringe rolling around in his pocket. Natasha looked over, but Clint didn't seem to notice. "You okay?" She asked as she brought the brace over to Clint while he slid into his t-shirt.

"Great."

Clint watched him as well, now curious. "You gonna be able to do this?"

"Come on, me, yeah. Shit yeah." He shifted and walked away, over to the window. Behind him Clint was walking up while putting on the brace. He slapped his hand on Barney's shoulder once he was beside him.

He turned his head slightly toward Clint, "I'm just ready to get this over with. Ya'know?"

Clint nodded, reassuring him, "Almost there." He hesitated before continuing, "If the worst possible outcome happens-"

Barney stopped him, "It won't."

"You have to be prepared for it." He knew from experience. Hope was well and good, but if you went in not accepting that the worst could happen it was just that much harder on the other side.

He stared out the window, "It won't happen."

Clint nodded, he hadn't caught his words, but it was safe to assume the content. He tightened his lips, and looked out the window as well, watching his brother's reflection more than the scenery outside. He also knew you couldn't make someone accept things they couldn't, weren't willing to. "Clint...I'm sorry for..." Barney took a deep breath before he continued, "For all this shit, all of it man, our whole lives. I've..." He trailed off, shaking his head. Clint watched him struggle with his emotions but remained silent. There was nothing to say that readily came to his lips. It was then Natasha walked up behind them. She had been wrapped up in getting prepared and didn't realize she was interrupting. She put her hand on Clint's shoulder and leaned toward him, "I'm going." She tapped her ear, "Com test?"

He gave Barney another glance, but he was done, the moment was gone. "Go for it." He said.

"Hostage. Corner. Stop. One, two, three..." She slowly went through a list of tactical terms they would have hand signals for and Clint's glove squeezed, vibrated, and tapped in accord. "We're good. Coming through on your end?" He asked.

"Loud and clear." She stepped back and pointed to both of them who were now turned and facing her, "Don't be stupid."

Barney scoffed, "You can't fight genetics Sweetcheeks."

She focused her full attention on Barney and stepped closer to him, intentionally letting her hair fall across her face, blocking her lips from Clint's view, "Whatever happens today is on you and I won't forget it. You can't fight that _Sweetcheeks_." She slapped his thigh dangerously close to his delicates.

"Noted." Barney stepped back but was too close to the window and simply bumped his heel into the wall. Natasha smiled and looked to Clint. Her smile faded as soon as she saw him. He hadn't appreciated the veiled exchange and it was written all over his face. "Be safe." She said.

"Stay clear, even if things go south. I can get us out of this without you putting yourself in harm's way." He watched her.

She turned her chin ever so slightly, "You know I can't promise that."

"You can."

"I won't then. I'm your partner Hawkeye. Deal with it."

There was nothing to argue. She was right. It wasn't about Natasha and Clint the couple, it was time to work. It was time to complete the mission and for them to both get home safe. As his partner, his teammate, she would do whatever it took to meet that goal. He couldn't deny her what they were both trained to the point of instinct to do. If he was in danger she would do what she could to fight beside him, to pull him through, to bring him home, just as he would for her. He nodded in agreement.

She took a deep breath, "See you at two." and walked to the door. She left without turning around.

Clint watched her go and it was only Barney's energetic arm swinging that grabbed his attention away from the closed door. He had said something but he only caught the last, "...intense."

He didn't ask him to repeat it. He didn't care to know whatever Barney had said. He walked to the table that was now covered in weaponry. "You should have this." He grabbed a small knife. "Keep it on your side. Somewhere you can reach even if your hands are tied."

"Okay. Won't they check for something like that?"

"Probably, but it doesn't hurt to be ready for screw ups."

"If you say so." Barney watched as Clint rubbed his hand along the currently useless bow and arrows sitting on the table. He pulled an arrow from the hard shell quiver and twirled it before putting it back. He couldn't help himself. Frannie and his arrows, some things never changed. It was the same in the circus. He was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Maybe it was because of the slingshot their grandpa had made and left in one of the barns. All those afternoons shooting beer bottles off fence-posts before he even knew his alphabet. Maybe it was that lucky arrowhead he always carried in his pocket. Maybe they were all one in the same. Clint's talismans. Some guardian spirit shit.

Barney felt the syringe still in his pocket. He began to perspire and his heart raced at the thought of using it. Not because of Natasha's threats, or fear of repercussions from those who were pulling him through this mess if he didn't. It was that he genuinely did not want to betray his brother. Plain and simple. He didn't want to deceive him, not again. He didn't want to cause him more harm than he already had, and he had done more than enough of that for a hundred lifetimes. He wanted his brother back. The brother who trusted him, who looked up to him for some unknown reason.

He was trying to turn it around, to get his life together. He was trying be a good man as best he knew how. He wanted Mara, their child, and a perfectly boring family life. He wanted Clint to be an Uncle. To come and visit him and his family. As ridiculous and impossible as it all seemed now, it was a future he had thought about, a thing hoped for against all odds or reason. He had been so damn stupid.

Clint looked up at him, eyes narrowed. His internal struggle must have been showing a little too clearly. He took his hand out of his pocket, and turned around. He looked out the window, watching for Natasha. She was gone, out of sight at least. He deserved whatever she would do to him. He would stand and take it. He would save the woman he loved, save his unborn child, and if the cost for that was Clint's life he would gladly throw his own in as well. Two Bartons for one. Seemed fair enough. Fair as any shake they had ever gotten.

Barney heard the restroom door click shut behind him, and water turn on at the sink inside. He swallowed and fished for the syringe in his pocket. It was after noon. Time was ticking away. He walked over to the restroom door and tried to open it but it was locked. He knocked, but Clint didn't respond. He was debating what to do when it opened and Clint was standing in front of him, towel in hand, his face still damp. "Were you talking to me? I had the water on."

Barney backed away, "No."

"Okay." He tapped his shoulder and moved past him. "All yours."

Barney turned and watched him walk away. He fiddled with his pocket, his palms were soaked with sweat, "You know I wouldn't have asked you to come here if there was another way?" Clint was looking out the window now, rubbing the towel along his neck, "You know right?" Barney added when Clint didn't respond.

Barney moved into the sunlight and his legs reflected in the window. Clint turned around, "We should go a little early. Check in with Nat."

"Sure." Barney watched as he turned back to the window.

"Francis. You know right, that I wanted to find another way?" He didn't turn. Why did he need that reassurance so badly? He said his name a little louder this time, still no response. He walked closer to him, catching his reflection in the window beside Clint's own. Clint was already watching him. "You ignoring me?" Barney asked.

He shrugged, "I'm always ignoring you Barnes." He looked back out the window but grinned as he glanced at Barney's reflection.

Barney huffed, "That's for damn sure."

He grew a little more serious, "Did you wanna say something?"

"Nah." Barney had a thought, a moment of clarity. There had been a couple times Clint had seemed to ignore him this morning and Natasha seemed to get his attention before talking to him. It was subtle, all of it, but stacked together it was enough to make him wonder. Then there was the glove that to him seemed like a ridiculous waste of time and effort. Unless there was no other option. Barney frowned and covered his mouth, pretending to yawn. "Natasha has a great ass."

Clint didn't react. Barney turned around, his back to him, "Holy shit what is that!?" Clint glanced over his shoulder but said nothing.

Barney turned back around and stared at him a moment. He put his hand up, blocking his mouth from view, "Can I toss your bow out the window?"

"What are you doing?" Clint watched him with rising annoyance.

Barney kept his hand in place, "The arrows too."

"Put your hand down already." He turned around.

Barney dropped his hand, "You can't hear me."

Clint looked away a second before looking back at him, "Not enough."

"Shit. Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know everybody asks that."

"Cause it's a damn good question."

"Not really." Clint took a deep breath, "It happened years ago Barnes." _Let it go._

"And you weren't gonna say anything? How long? What happened?"

"Seven years. On a mission. I stumbled onto a land-mine, sort-of...more of a sonic thing...doesn't matter." He frowned at the memory.

"Jesu..."

"I survived it. I'm fine." _Move on. It's not your business to fumble around in._

"Seven years?"

"Yeah."

"So when I came to see you in D.C.?"

"Came to see me." He shook his head, "That's one way to put it." Clint couldn't control the bitter tinge to his words. "It was a while after. I was just getting back into my stride when you showed up and..." _ripped it all away._ He wanted to say but let it go. He kept his eyes on him. It was the first time they had ever talked about it. He would make him look him in the eyes and face his betrayal. It had cut so deep. It had cost him so much recovery. But he was trying to move past it, to forgive and forget, the least Barney could do was man-up to what he had done.

Barney swallowed and looked away, "I didn't know." History was going to repeat itself and he'd be damned if he could ever face Clint again, if he got the chance, once it was done.

"Face me." Clint took a breath, "I have to see your lips."

"I didn't know you were...that that was going on."

"Would it have made any difference?"

"No, not really."

Clint shifted, pulling at the brace holding the same arm Barney had gone after for the same bogus bounty all those years ago, "At least you admit it."

"No wonder Natasha gets all protective around you." Barney had moved on and Clint was surprised to find that instead of it being what he had wanted it irritated him. He clenched his jaw. Had he really expected an apology? It probably hadn't even occurred to Barney. "It's not like that."

"Oh no. It is. You don't see it but that woman watches out for you like a momma bear on steroids." For a split-second he pushed back a terror that wanted to come barreling to the front of his mind.

"She shouldn't." Clint shifted. He didn't like the idea of Natasha looking out for him, or anyone for that matter. He didn't need it, he didn't want it.

"Come on, don't get all bent outta shape. You do the same to her. It's disturbing, but sweet, in a super secret partner ex-assassins turned lovers freaky-ass kinda way."

Clint watched him. Leave it to Barney to find the most base flippant way to describe the only valuable relationship he had in his life. "The life we live, it...we've been through a lot together. I don't think she even realizes what she's doing. I know I don't think about it. It's just second nature to..." He smacked the towel against his leg and looked away without finishing. He didn't want to talk about this, with Barney especially, but the words had tumbled out.

"Ain't that love." Barney crossed his arms.

Clint frowned, "Is it? I don't know. How the hell would either of us know anything about it." He shook his head. He hadn't meant to get so pessimistic and loathing. "Shit. It doesn't matter Barnes. None of it"

Barney swallowed. The betrayal that weighed heavy in his pocket seemed to gain another pound and he couldn't help but fidget. "Maybe. Yeah maybe."

Clint watched him walk away and start pacing. He was acting unusually odd, even for Barney. It was probably just nerves but it felt like more to Clint and his instincts, though anything but accurate when it came to his brother, were usually right. It was then he noticed him reach for his pocket for the third time in the past few minutes. "What's going on with you?" He asked.

"Hmm?" Barney looked up, "Nothin'."

"Are you going to be able to keep it together?" He asked.

"Sure."

He reached for his pocket absently again and Clint called him on it, "What's in your pocket Barnes?"

He looked wide-eyed at Clint, "My pocket?"

"You can't keep your hand off of it. You got an itch or what?"

Barney licked his lips and looked away. He glanced at the clock. It was twelve-fifty. He was running out of time. He had to do it, get it over with, now before he couldn't bring himself to turn on his little brother like this. He walked over to Clint quickly. "I love you man." He said as he wrapped his arms around him, making sure to pin his good arm down while jabbing the syringe into his neck. He pushed down on the plunger without hesitation and watched the amber liquid disappearing as Clint pushed against him, wrestling as best he could. They tumbled back into the bed and the slight bounce off the mattress gave Clint the leverage he needed. He knocked Barney's feet out from under him, slamming him to the floor, but the syringe was already empty. "What the hell!" Clint grabbed at his neck and stepped back. "What the hell was that?"

Barney was still sprawled on the floor. He looked at the syringe and dropped it like a hot iron. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Clint looked down on him.

Barney stood, hands out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He repeated himself, "I had to. They told me...I had to."

Clint pulled his hand away and looked at the slight stain of blood on his fingers. "And you come at me like that?!" Any calm he could muster was trying to slip away. He backed closer to the table where his arrows rested. "With a fuckin' I love you man!" Barney was watching him, braced, waiting to see what he would do. What he wanted to do was kick his ass, but he stood where he was. He couldn't let his composure slip away. With it would go his control. What little he had. He had to think. He had to focus. Natasha. He hoped she was still in range to hear him through her com, "Tell me is Natasha safe? Is she walking into a trap?"

"I don't know. I swear I don't know."

He was already feeling light headed, whatever Barney had given him was kicking in quickly. He looked for a place to drop and didn't have to go far to slump onto the edge of the small chair by the table. His stomach flopped, "So was it all a lie? Mara, the market? The baby?" He kept the coms open. If Nat was in range she would hear it all. He watched Barney though it was getting harder to focus.

"No man, no. It's like I told you, but they grabbed me this morning when I was getting breakfast. They're nervous that we've been staying together. They gave me that, called it a precaution."

Clint shook his head to clear away the approaching fog. "And you did it. You've been building up to it all morning. All this time, all your apologies, reaching out...just bullshit." He scoffed, "Once a snake, alwa..." He trailed off, something was moving under Barney's face, making his skin ripple. He was so transfixed by the sight he didn't even realize he had stopped talking.

"I told you. I told you it was you for her. I told you! Why didn't you bring your buddies? You coulda just snagged her and brought her home right from the start. None of this woulda happened." He rubbed his hand through his hair.

"You're going to blame me?" He started to stand, but had to sit again. The burst of adrenaline faded as quickly as it had come on and the floor bobbed beneath his feet.

Barney shook his head, "I,I just, I have to save her you know. The baby. I have to. I'd do anything to..."

The wall behind Barney began to slip to the side. If he hadn't been so pissed, so in shock at his own massive blind-spot, he would've laughed. Instead he watched as the wall and the floor seemed to flatten into one surface, dropping like a photographers screen behind Barney. He looked away from the odd, shifting scene and tried to focus on his brother. He was talking, he could tell he was saying something, but he couldn't understand it. There was no reading lips that stretched and drooped. "I can't..." He shook his head and tried to focus. "Your face is...sliding"

Barney stopped talking. Clint's pupils were the size of saucers. There was no blue left. He walked toward him, but he had only gone a few steps when there was a knock on the door. He straightened and stole a quick glance back at his brother before moving to answer it.

Clint was slowly leaning back into the chair. The sound of laughter peeled over his shoulder. Clear, crisp, vicious laughter. "Can't be." He rubbed his hand across his mouth. _Can't be._ He looked over in time to see Barney growing, morphing like Banner, into something indistinct but less human."It's not real." _Not real, not real._ He looked around. Where the hell was he sitting? Was he sitting, or falling very slowly?

Barney peeked through the peephole and wasn't surprised to see Conrad with a man on either side of her. One was as stocky as the other was thin and lanky. He took a deep breath, looked back at Clint, and opened the door.

"Is it done?" The platinum blonde henchman asked.

Barney stepped aside, arm raised in Clint's direction, "See for yourself." She slid past him into the room. The two men right behind her. The stockier of the two making sure to rub against Barney and look down on him a little longer than necessary as he walked by. He didn't shrink from the stare and the bigger man broke first, but not before he sneered. Barney closed the door behind them. "So what the hell did you give him?"

She was standing in front of Clint now, leaning down, looking into his eyes. He didn't, couldn't see her. " _You_ gave him enough hallucinogens to make an elephant sing." She smiled and rubbed Clint's chin, "You boys wanna walk him down to the car."

She walked over to Barney. "Good job. He is _gone_." She was a little too joyous about that last part for his liking. "I really didn't think you'd get much of it in him before he kicked your ass. Even with the broken wing." She saw the empty syringe on the floor and hushed a laugh, "Probably shouldn't have given him the whole thing though champ." She raised her hands, still smiling, "Oh well. Call me impressed."

He pushed past her, moving toward Clint and the men who were trying to lift him, ignoring her as best he could. "You don't get him without Mara. Where is she?"

Conrad stepped back between he and the men, gesturing for them to go ahead with Clint. She looked at Barney and popped gum at the same time the gun in her hand clicked, trigger ready, bullet in the chamber, "You'll see. You're coming too."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Natasha was setting up in the empty apartment when Clint's signal came through as nothing more than a click followed by static that quickly disappeared.

"Hawkeye." She waited for a response but there was nothing more from his end and she assumed he was on his way, testing the connection as he came closer. She went back to the job at hand. Her lean-to was ready. She had a clear line of sight on the market where Clint had chosen to stand and wait. It was a spot that also afforded her view of all the surrounding buildings but the one she was in. The roof of which she had cleared before setting up here. If there was another sniper she had at least a chance of spotting them. She pulled the rifle scope from her bag and put it in place, checking the view as she did.

"Hawk-" Just as she was checking her com again a window shattered and a bullet whizzed by her ear. She dropped to the floor and crawled to an interior room. Staying low, she peeked around the door frame. Another bullet whistled by her. "I'm under fire." She spoke into her com. It may have been pointless but she had to try.

She dropped low and belly crawled back to the rifle, pulling it close before crawling over to a window. She stayed low and looked through the scope. It took her a minute to find her mark across the way, corner window. She steadied the rifle and took aim. He dropped but she wasn't sure if she had made her shot or scared him down. Either way she took her opening and ran to the front door and the sheltered hallway beyond. "Hawkeye." She tried the com again. Nothing. The elevator at the end of the hall pinged and she didn't wait to see who would exit. She darted to the stairwell and made her way down. "I'm going to ground."

She would have to lay low until two. It was clear things were unraveling, but she couldn't know to what extent yet, and it was too late to try to catch Clint and Barney at the hotel. She would have to stay put. If they showed up she would still need to be their back-up. Her only hope was once Clint was in range she could give him a heads up in time.

 ** _Break_**

Across town Barney was riding in the back of the car Conrad had been driving earlier. He was squished beside Clint and they both had a thug beside them, big and stretch from upstairs, blocking the doors and pushing them closer together. Clint was staring ahead, slumped slightly in the seat, his eyes still dilated to the point of being nothing more than two onyx circles against the pink-tinged white of his eyes. He was talking to someone that, judging by the direction of his gaze, was sitting on the hood of the car. "Too close." He shook his head and licked his lips. Something to the right caught his attention and he grew deathly silent.

Beside him Barney was trying his best to stare a hole into the back of Conrad's head. She turned around, smiling, "Sounds like he's having fun."

"If he's...I'll-"

"What? What are you going to do?" Her eyes grew wide and for a split second he could see a flicker of joy at the threat of violence in her pale, callous orbs. He continued to stare but dropped the threat for now. She faked a pout, "Too bad." She turned around, fully facing the back, and leaned over the seat. Rubbing her hand along Clint's jaw, her index finger tracing his lower lip and wandering down his chin. She was just about to circle around the hollow of his neck when Clint grabbed her hand so quickly there would have been no avoiding his hold, even if she had seen it coming. He searched her features a few seconds before his hand dropped and he went back to looking at the phantom on his right. Her interest increased with the unexpected jolt, the tingle of fear. Her fingers danced across his collarbone, and found their way to his shoulder where she slid one beneath the tight black sleeve that encased his shoulder and flicked the fabric, "You two look a lot alike. You know that?" She pulled her eyes away from him long enough to glance at Barney.

He didn't respond. He was staring her down, restraining himself from sending her back to the front of the car without a please and thank you. "Get your hand off of him."

She grinned and shrugged at his insinuated threat, "He is a little cleaner than you though. I mean in general. You have this..." She sat back in her seat, still facing the back, and waved her hand around in Barney's direction, "disheveled, I really don't care about hygiene look going on." She waited for a response that didn't come, suddenly bored, she turned back around sliding into her seat.

He looked to Clint. "He gonna be alright?"

She kicked her cherry strewn heels onto the dashboard and stared forward, popping her gum. "No idea, not my Kool-Aid." She looked at the driver, a man Barney hadn't seen before. "That was Elton, right?" She asked. The driver kept his eyes on the road and shrugged. She mirrored the gesture, disinterested.

He swallowed and looked out the window, away from Clint. Unforgivable, he thought, he'd crossed the line into unforgivable. And it wasn't the first time. It was only the first time he had been neck-deep in it with his brother. The sunlight streaming through the car window flashed just so that, for an instant, Clint's reflection blocked the view outside. He looked ageless, a softened specter out of place and time, slumped in the seat beside him. It suddenly occurred to him, in a moment of clarity sent at the oddest of times, that he had always seen Clint as expendable. Right from the start. He could think of a dozen reasons, and had twice as many fingers to point. There was their dad, the state homes, he could go on, but it served no purpose. It just was what it was.

He thought of Carsons Circus where Clint's life was gambled, bartered even, for the sell of a shiny ticket. It wasn't the same back in those days. No one kept a close eye on traveling shows, or the kids in their company. Despite being a quick study, a natural acrobat, and as sure a shot the circus had ever seen, Clint's worth was summed up in total nightly sells. If the numbers dropped his act would need to be just a little higher, just a little more dangerous, and the numbers always seemed to drop.

He could still hear them goading Clint, "You're gonna lose 'em. They're bored. Scare 'em Hawk. They'll love it, they'll love you." In Barney's eyes, they played him and pushed him, and Clint seemed blind to the fact he was nothing more than a dancing monkey that they'd sacrifice for a heavier bank bag any day of the week. He watched and he learned. At first he had tried to look out for him, but no one would have it, not even Clint. Barney's place was cleaning up after the animals and, in time, setting up the rigging.

"We're here boys." Conrad looked over her shoulder. She turned back around and flicked her used-up gum across the street through the car's open window before opening the door. Barney leaned down and looked past the block of muscle beside him. They were parked beside a grey skyscraper. Two large palm trees, a carpet of tropical leaves at their feet, made a noble attempt at giving life to the dead space but failed against the overpowering sterility of concrete and steel. They may as well have been plastic for all the chance they had.

The large man on his right got out and pulled Barney with him at the same time Clint was being pulled out of the other side of the car by his braced arm. "Easy slim, you break it you buy it." Barney called over the car top to the more slender of the two who stumbled as Clint left the car with all the grace of a newborn giraffe, "Your brother's one irritating piece of shit you know that." The wisp of a thug spat as he struggled to keep Clint upright.

"Yeah, well, he's my irritating piece of shit so keep his face off the pavement or I'll show you irritating when my foots up your ass so far your eyeballs have jock itch."

The thug moved a little quicker, pulling Clint who was now staring down Conrad as if he were marking a target. "You got some mouth for a guy about to-"

"Alvin." Conrad interrupted, "Just get him inside." She looked at Barney and said, "You do know how to shut-up, right." before stealing an uncomfortable glance Clint's way and walking ahead. He was being pulled forward, behind her, into the buildings lobby. There were two security guards up front and center, but they didn't seem to care what was happening. Paid off no doubt, he thought.

They all squeezed into the elevator and rode up for several floors. Now beside him again Clint took a deep breath and dropped his head, he rolled his good shoulder. It seemed to Barney he was bracing himself for something, steeling himself for a fight of one kind or another. Whatever it was it would never come or maybe it already had. It was hard to tell what was happening inside his brother's head. When the doors pinged open he was facing an empty office space. There were a few rooms to the back with most of their doors closed but the rest was an open, colorless, expanse that would eventually be sectioned off into cubicles, "Cozy little secret hideout you have Conrad. How's casual Friday?" He said.

Conrad ignored him, turning to the man holding Clint, "This way." She looked at Barney, "You too, romeo."

She walked in front of them back to the room on the far right and opened the door. She stepped aside and let the man with Clint go in first, her eyes on Barney the whole time. When he started to pass her, her hand went to his chest. He looked down and then to her, she smiled, and stepped aside. She had only wanted to push her weight around, to delay him a second longer than necessary just because she could, and he knew it.

"Barney." A small voice came from behind him and to the left. He turned and Mara was on the floor, looking up at him. He dropped, all of his hard edges were instantly softened, even Clint was forgotten for a moment, "Mara." He rubbed the hair back from her temple as his other hand found her domed belly, "Are you okay?" All the bruises that marred her face in the picture were still present and mottled the left side of her face in shades of yellows, greens, and nauseating reddish-browns. A fresh purple bruise stained her dry split lower lip and spread to her chin. She nodded and reached out to him, her hand finding his scruffy jawline, as her dark eyes welled with tears.

There was a grunt from the corner and Mara looked over his shoulder as he turned to see what was happening. The larger of the two thugs had tried to restrain Clint's legs and, despite the archer's state, received a solid kick for it. "Fff." He hissed through closed lips and was ready to return the favor when Conrad stepped in, her thin hand wrapped around his large wrist as far as it could reach, "No marks."

"Just a little nudge."

"No. Marks." She glanced at Barney, not really talking to him, "His brother's done enough damage already." He couldn't help but see her gaze flicker to Mara. She was stirring the waters. She was playing them for sport, for shits and giggles alone. Beside him he could see Mara was taking the bait. She looked up at him questioning. He couldn't look at her and there was nothing he could bring himself to say. He looked up at Conrad who was watching, her glacial eyes grew unfathomably colder as a smile played across her lips, "Just leave him be. He's harmless like this." She could have said as much about Barney. She slapped the big man on the shoulder and walked out of the room. He followed behind her, locking the door. Barney watched Clint a minute. He was dreading seeing the look in Mara's eyes, but after only a few seconds, it became preferable to watching Clint, trapped in his own head.

He turned. Her hand found his arm, "Is that Francis?"

He nodded, "Clint." She looked thrown off for a second, "Francis is his middle name. It's kinda a running joke." Joke, jab to the kidneys, take your pick. Whatever it was, it was theirs, and if Mara was going to talk to him at some point she should probably have the name right.

"What happened to him?"

He wanted to make excuses. He wanted to start with all the reasons he had to do it, all of his overly thought out justifications for his betrayal, but he couldn't, not to her. He sat on the floor, distancing himself from her, her hand slipped from his arm, "I drugged him. Shoved god knows what into his veins."

Her brow furrowed, "You?"

"Yeah."

"Drugged him?" She looked back over his shoulder, back to Clint, before looking at him again. "Why would you...?"

"They only took you to get to him."

"I don't understand." She shifted, the baby was kicking, and a spasm of pain shot across her hips and down her leg.

"I did what I had to to get you back." He looked away from her, back to Clint. She leaned forward slowly, one hand going to her belly as the other found his arm again, turning his eyes back to her. She said nothing. Clearly he had been played, and they were all in the same boat now. There was nothing to say.

"I had to." He said to himself as much as to her.

Her lips parted, she wanted to say something but words failed, she exhaled and looked at Clint again, "Is he going to be okay?"

"I don't know." He ran his hand over his hair, and down his chin, "I don't know." His eyes were transfixed on her hand placed upon her stomach, and on the life within. They began to burn, to sting with such ferocity that he didn't even notice the tear that threatened to roll down his nose. His fear whispered, _All for nothing, for nothing._ She covered his hand with her own and squeezed. "We'll get out of this."

"Sure we will." She watched him. His only love, his only hope, his present, and future. He looked in her eyes and could see she still had faith in him. He would find a way. He would get them out of this mess. Redemption flickered on the horizon and he nodded, "Whatever it takes." She kissed his forehead as he fell forward gently onto her, head bent so that he could see his brother.

Their rescue, his deliverance, would only take slipping past the four people outside the door, descending some thirty floors, and blending into the crowd for several blocks with the Fertile Wonder and Mister Delirious. Piece of cake. If your idea of cake was a stack of stale rice cakes frosted with cement.

 _ **Break**_

Natasha waited, stalking the market, trying to get a response from Clint. It was after three and there was no sight of him or Barney. There was only the shooter from earlier that she managed to keep off balance and searching while she watched for her partner. It was time to fall back to their hotel room and she hoped she would find some clue there. Her pulse quickened with every block that brought her closer.

When she was near enough that his glove should pick up her signal she tried again, "Hawkeye. Status?" She walked and listened. Nothing. She looked up at their room's window as she approached the hotel. All seemed quiet. There were no police or emergency service vehicles as she would expect to see if there had been a fight, a struggle of any sort. If something had happened to her partner it had gone unnoticed. She walked through the lobby without anyone stopping her, or even taking much notice, and took the stairs up. When she exited the stairwell and looked down the dim stretch of empty corridor a beam of light coming from an open door cut a sharp sliver across the creamy carpet. It was their room's door. The light dimmed a second. Someone was moving inside. She put her hand on the concealed knife at her waist and walked forward slowly. She paused outside the door and peeked in. The edge of a shadow was within view. She pulled the knife and slowly, quietly, pushed the door open.

She recognized him as soon as she saw him, a dark suit covered a straight back, "Coulson."

He turned and smiled at her. It was small and marred by a fresh gash across his lips from who knows what happening, who knew where, "Natasha." She sheathed the knife and walked over to him, giving him a hug. "Expecting a fight?" He referred to the blade slipping back under her shirt hem.

"More than I was expecting you."

"You called." He said

She shook her head, "I didn't know if you could...if you were really..." She took a deep breath and grinned at him. Damn it was good to see him. The last time was in the hellicarrier after Loki, she pushed the thought away, "Fury's good at keeping his secrets."

"I don't think he was too happy about letting this one go."

She shrugged, "It's tough all around. Just add it to the list of ways I've made Nick Fury unhappy."

"I gave up on keeping track in your first week." He took her in, "How have you been?"

She took a deep breath. Despite his brush with death, or total submersion in it, he was the same old Phil. Thoughtful, loving, solid. "Good."

He looked her over, "And an Avenger."

She shook her head, "I don't think they've realized I'm still hanging around."

"Can't imagine they could do what they do without you."

She grinned, "You do know they have Steve Rogers? I think they would manage."

He narrowed his eyes, her self deprecation didn't stand a chance, "It's a well deserved position Nat." _I'm proud of you._ He gripped her hand before moving on, "How's Barton? What's going on?"

She looked away, bypassing the first question. "Barney. His girlfriend is being held ransom in exchange for Clint-"

"And he's volunteered to take her place." He'd already assumed Barney was involved after hearing they were here in Caracas, and the volunteering part, well that was standard Barton m.o.

"Yeah, at least long enough to get her out, but he and Barney never showed for the exchange. I was run from high ground and tailed. I was hoping to see them here."

"Not here. The door was already open when I showed up."

The thought that Clint may have played her after all hummed at the back of her thoughts. She wouldn't voice it though and Phil had moved on to more pragmatic questions, "When did you separate?" He needed a time-line to work from.

"We had to use the glove at the last minute so I left early to scout a lower perch. About-"

"The glove?" He interrupted.

"Emergency back-up. Cross destroyed his exterior receivers. Tony and Banner have been working on them and they're close but..." She trailed off. The last thing she wanted to do was lay out the litany of Clint's current disasters.

"Natasha. The gloves have a tracer weaved into the fibers."

She walked away, staying clear of the windows. A wave of emotion that bordered on relief washed over her and in its wake her older concerns were exposed, "The sooner the better. He's still in tatters from his run in with Cross."

She didn't need to explain. Phil had slipped past Natasha and Steve to see him in the emergency room all those weeks ago. He'd only had a few minutes to visit before his team was chirping in his ear that they had picked up Cross from the NYPD, had his bomb, and it was time to fly. But it had been enough. There was one undeniable fact though, one that could not be denied, "If I know anything about Clint Barton it's that he works better when the odds are stacked against him. He only pushes harder."

"He's only human Phil."

"When has that ever stopped him?" He narrowed his eyes on her, "Don't doubt him now."

"I'm not."

"Okay."

"So what do we do?"

Phil grinned, "We save the day."

 _*A/N: Thank you for your patience and for coming back. I know I left you waiting too long for this next bit._ _Also a shout out to reviewer Lee: Thank you, it means a lot and I hope you do keep checking in!_

 _(Alvin, Elton, and Nick, just like Kelly Conrad, are not my characters. Check out Marvel's The Death Throws ; )_

 _I'll be tinkering with this for days after first publishing. If you didn't like the first read, come back in a day or two, and it may have improved. (that goes for most every chapter of every story I will ever post)_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

His fingers were tingling so much he could swear sparks must be dancing off their tips. He couldn't look to see though. A giant canine-like creature, with shining plates along its back and horns sprouting in front of each ear, had been tailing him for miles and he was currently in the middle of a stare-down that losing would make him the main course of a dog-eat-dog or, in this case, monster beast-eat-woefully unarmed archer fight. Between that and the laughter that kept coming from over his shoulder he was having a hard time focusing on anything else. "Nat?"

She walked up beside him, "Yeah."

"Where are we headed again?"

"D.C."

"Okay." He paused, "Why?"

"Really? Are you okay?"

"Maybe, maybe not. So why D.C.?"

"We have to get there before Barney."

"Right, see that's where I'm confused. We're stopping him from coming after me...in D.C...years ago..." Or was that years from now?

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."

"I'm making this..." There was that laugh again. "You hear that?" He glanced away from the dog for a split second, and it reacted with a snarl, "We gotta do something about that thing."

" _We_ can't."

"We can't?"

"No." She grabbed a stone that appeared as needed, just like the road that stretched just a few feet in front of them before disappearing into a black abyss, and the tall grass with the occasional doors and windows that would show up only for their stalker to disappear into. She threw the stone directly at the beast. If it had followed its trajectory it would have hit the helldog square on the nose but instead stopped and fell to the earth, as if being caught and dropped by an invisible hand. "Here. Go for it." She handed another rock to him. He threw it with the same resulting stop and fall. "How the….?"

"I've told you. Remember?"

"Not really, you wanna give me a little hint or should I just add that to the list of shit I don't currently understand?"

"List it."

"Right."

Her tone changed, "You know you can't keep going on like this. You'll have to fight your way out soon."

"What?" What was she talking about? _  
_

She stepped in front of him, blocking him from his attentive stare at the monstrous mutt, she was suddenly deadly serious. "You have to wake up. He's coming. Out the window" She turned and a window appeared just at the edge of the road, off in the darkness, beyond the snarling creature. Her face morphed for a second into a woman's he no longer recognized and only vaguely remembered.

"I don't, uh..." What the hell was going on?

"Go." She repeated, her voice was not her own. It carried a slight twang that reminded him of cornfields, broken bottles, and bloody noses. She watched him, waiting for something but he was lost as to what it could be. She leaned down and slid a cap onto her head and he was suddenly staring at Steve Rogers. Or had it been Steve all along? He couldn't be certain.

"Can we count on you Barton?" The captain asked, stern sincerity in full force.

He looked over Steve's shoulder at the dog-beast that was moving a little closer behind him, hunched and growling. "Uhm, sure Cap, but you should move. There's this...and I'm being generous here, dog behind you and..." He looked at Steve again only to find Tony staring at him, smiling.

He jumped, "Stark." The beast was temporarily forgotten.

"Jack?" He offered a glass of caramel hued liquid.

"You know you got a little..." Clint started to mention the gaping hole in Tony's chest, but stopped when the inventor drank the whiskey, impatient with Clint's hesitation, and didn't seem to care that it drizzled out of the crater and down to his nice, crisp, expensive shoes. Clint shook his head, "What the hell is goin…" There was that laugh again and before he could say more Tony was gone and he was staring into the giant canines chest rising and falling with every breath. It's fur rubbed along his chin, down his neck. He stepped back slowly until there was a comfortable distance between them.

His hands began to tingle, "Nat?"

She walked up beside him, "Yeah."

"Where we headed again?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

They had been sitting in the small office for hours. Day had turned to night and Mara had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep in Barney's arms. He rubbed her arm and watched across the room as Clint seemed to be coming around. Instead of talking to shadows and staring at things only he could see he was finally closing his eyes. He was relaxing, no longer gripped, body and soul, by waking dreams. He had been still for several minutes and Barney was beginning to think he had fallen asleep. Until he shifted and his hand went to his eyes as he hissed. Slowly Barney slipped out from beneath Mara and made his way over to him. "Frannie." He grabbed his arm and slid beside him. Clint's eyes darted open and closed as quickly with another hiss and groan. He pulled his arm from Barney's grasp and rubbed his temple, before flexing his fingers. His limbs were tingling, reviving from the hallucinogens sense numbing fog.

Barney sat back and watched a minute. Once again Clint tried to open his eyes, sheltering them with his hand, only to shut them again. He leaned forward, eyes closed, he was in no hurry to try again. "What's with the spotlight?" His words were sluggish and he licked his lips to relieve their dryness to no avail.

Barney walked over to the switch and turned off the overhead light that was no brighter than any other fluorescent. City lights spilled in from the large rectangular window, casting a dim orange glow that concentrated in one large rain streaked square over Clint's head. He sat back down by him. "How you doin'?" He asked, speaking loudly into his ear.

Clint sat up, forehead cupped into his good hand. He swallowed and tentatively asked, "Barney?" Though the whiskers that tickled his cheek and earlobe, the ever-present hint of nicotine on his breath, took a good deal of doubt away.

Barney slapped his back, "Yeah man, yeah. Shit you had me worried."

The slap was all the confirmation he needed. He tried to open his eyes one more time, and managed to keep them open long enough to see a kaleidoscope of vibrating blobs before it was more than his dry, burning eyes and exposed retinas could handle. "Gonna hurl..." His stomach turned and he reached out for something, anything to spill it into. A cold, solid form was in his hand in seconds and he let go of the stomach acid that was now burning his nostrils.

His heart began to race but he breathed through it, reminding himself to calm, collect, and assess the situation. His head was spinning, his stomach was flipping, and it felt as if every drop of moisture had been sucked from his body. His eyes burned and even when he managed to keep them open a couple seconds they wouldn't focus. The room was too washed out to discern any details, as were Barney's lips. He had no idea where he was or what had happened, and his legs felt anything but reliable. _Swell._ "Barney."

"Yeah." Barney put his hand on Clint's shoulder.

"I need you to give me two taps for yes and one tap for no. Into my palm. Understand?" He could manage this. He opened his hand, and dropped his head nearly between his knees.

Barney tapped twice, _"Yes."_

He took a deep breath. "Okay..." He was still failing to remember exactly what had happened and was trying to find a way to ask that could be answered with a simple yes or no. He had no sooner thought it than a memory flashed, clear and violent. Barney was coming at him, _I love you man._ He nearly jumped at how all encompassing it was, "Shit." He moved his head. Sure enough he could feel the tender, slightly swollen spot on his neck. Everything since was gone. What the hell had he given him?

The rush of adrenaline sent a fresh cacophony of chemicals through his brain. The memory faltered, slipping down the muddy slope that was his mind. He was suddenly struggling to grasp what was and what had been. Time was suddenly fluid and coming in random bursts. Where was he? Where was Nat? Had she come with him? They had been together, right? He shook his head. It was swimming. Focus!

Barney watched him, brow stitched with concern.

He had to focus on what he knew, or thought he knew, "I was given something?"

 _"Yes."_ For a split second Barney could have suffocated under the weight of his shame. _  
_

For Clint there was no point in asking if he knew what is was. That would just have to come later when he could read his lips again. As it were, he would have to work a little harder for understanding. "Have we moved?"

" _Yes_ _."_ Barney wondered if he could have any idea that more than six hours, closer to seven, had passed.

"From the hotel?" He took a shot. He honestly wasn't certain that they had even started there.

 _"Yes."_

So they had been at the hotel, but where they were now would most likely remain a mystery, "Are we alone?

" _No_."

Not alone could equal danger or could be a good thing. "Nat here?"

 _"No."_

Damn. "Friendlies?"

Barney wasn't sure how to answer. Mara was with them, but Conrad and her gang were on the other side of the door. He settled for one tap, " _No_."

"Close?"

" _No."_

That was something at least, but it could be a momentary reprieve. "Imminent?" There was another hesitation followed by one tap. It seemed safe to assume they could keep this up then, so he continued. "How many? Count off on my fingertips." Barney tapped the tips of his first four fingers. Behind him Mara stirred and sat up. She began to watch the exchange. Barney glanced over his shoulder at her, but looked back to Clint quickly when he asked, "You with them Barn? You a threat?" There was a hesitation, then one solid tap, " _NO_!"

He raised his head and tried again to open his eyes. The light was less of an assault now, but the world was still a fuzzed out haze. The taps would have to work for the time being. He rubbed his hand down his face, "Hell of a way to show it. Comin' at me like that." He dropped his hand palm-up onto his knee without much thought. He was testing Barney's reaction.

"I'm sor..." Barney swallowed his words, taking in the fact that Clint's squinting red eyes searched but were not following his lips. _Unforgivable._ _"Yes."_ He tapped into his palm. What else could he do but agree with his brothers condemnation at this moment.

It was the confirmation Clint needed. He was remembering something real. It had been Barney. He had shot him up with whatever he was struggling to shake off. The fact once acknowledged pulled more from the abyss. He remembered Mara and the baby. The kidnapping and exchange. Natasha going ahead of them. "Have you seen Mara?" He let his head fall back against the wall, eyes closed again. "Y _es_."

"She okay?"

Barney slid over to her and helped her move closer to Clint, "Trust me, please." He said to her as he took Clint's hand and placed it on her full belly. Clint leaned forward and smiled, "Mara...and little peanut."

"I've heard a lot about-" She began.

"He can't hear you babe." Barney interrupted.

She knew that, or at least had assumed it after watching Barney tap his palm, but it was a reflex to speak. "I'm sorry. I..." She stopped and placed her hand over Clint's, still on her belly feeling the baby move. She squeezed his hand, the hello implied, and took in his features. So like Barney's, but where Barney was all lengthy, lean, and sharp edged Clint was compact, sinewy, and athletic. Round where Barney was sharp, solid where he was soft. She wondered how much of that would translate to their personalities and if she would ever get the chance to find out.

Beneath his hand Clint could feel the baby squirm and kick. If he focused he could almost follow the steady heart beat. "He feels strong. The baby." He smiled and shook his head. He was running smack into what he never thought could be, but here it was all the same. He could only marvel at the complete and total failure of his certainty, and his overwhelming gratitude for having been so wrong, "I'll be."

Barney looked at Mara, "He?"

"Maybe." She smiled but it didn't last as a spasm made her clench. "You okay?" Barney asked at the same time Clint looked up squinting. He had felt the spasm. She moved away from the two men, back to the corner "Fine, I'm fine."

"You okay?" Clint echoed Barney, but was momentarily ignored.

"Are you? Is this-" Barney was asking but she cut him off, "No. No it's too soon." Barney stood and banged on the door, "Hey! Hey!"

Clint could feel the thuds vibrate through the wall. He wanted to ask what was happening but settled for being still and paying attention.

Barney continued to bang until the man Conrad had called Nick opened the door, gun first. "Step back."

Barney put his hands up and backed away, "She needs a doctor."

"No doc." Nick looked at Mara who was red and breathing through the pain.

"Get a damn doctor!" Barney moved towards him but was stopped by the butt of the handgun to his temple. He dropped to the floor. Not knocked out but stunned.

Nick scrunched up his nose, "It stinks in here." He turned and saw the trash can and said "Ah, fuck." before leaving back through the door. He'd get Elton. The street fighter with a talent for chemistry, had told them all to get him if the guy started puking. Nick didn't give two shits what happened to the woman or the baby, but if they lost the Avenger on his watch he'd be a dead man.

Still on the floor Barney moaned and rolled over to his stomach, pushing himself up as he did. "You okay?" He stayed crouched on his knees and elbows a minute before crawling over to Mara. She reached out for him and rubbed his temple as he slid beside her taking in her condition as well. Seconds later the door swung open and Nick was back, gun trained on Barney. Another man came in behind him. He looked like an m.m.a. fighter. All honed, fine-tuned muscle that made the other tough-guy look soft in comparison. Clearly between the two, Nick was little more than an extra set of eyes. The new arrival, Elton, dropped in front of Clint and put his head to his chest, listening to his heart as best he could.

Clint couldn't discern one blob from another, "You alright Barn?" He caught a whiff of Elton's cologne, felt the door close through the wall behind him, and instantly regretted his mistake.

He scoffed, "I'm not your brother buddy."

"You're not his buddy either, _pal_." Barney piped up from across the room, still rubbing at his temple.

Elton ignored him and grabbed Clint's wrist. There was a subtle scent coming from the newcomer that Clint could taste at the back of his mouth. A hint of a substance that made his stomach turn and his body react to its unpleasant familiarity. Bile threatened the back of his throat again but he pushed it down and tried to still himself.

"I assume you got the lights off for a reason." Elton took note of Clint's still blackened iris'.

Again Barney spoke up before there was too long a silence, "He's dilated as fuck, dip-shit."

At that Elton looked over his shoulder and smiled, "So I hear you gave him the whole syringe." He shook his head and looked back to Clint, taking in his dry, blood-shot eyes. "I told Kelly only fill it half-way, but that woman doesn't do anything half-way." He smirked, "Guess you don't either." He slapped Clint's leg and stood, pulling out a bottle of eye drops from his jean pocket.

"Fuck you." Barney said across the room as Elton leaned back down to Clint, not giving Barney even the benefit of a glance. He looked at Clint, "I'm gonna put some drops in your eyes to help with the burn. I can't do a thing about the blurriness though. You're stuck with that for a few hours. Maybe a few days, worst case" As far as Elton was concerned the archer had earned a certain amount of respect no matter what side of this deal you were on. Drugging him, having his brother do it, was a low, dirty move, and he didn't like it. But he didn't call the shots. He was expected to follow orders, stick to his job, and keep his opinions to himself. It pissed him off, it tore his conscience to hell, but he needed what they were offering. It just didn't change the fact that he respected the man in front of him more than those beside him.

From across the room Barney listened and debated telling the guy Clint couldn't hear him, to let him put the drops in, but he was actually looking forward to seeing Clint kick his ass. Elton leaned forward and pushed Clint's head back, hand wrapped around his chin as he spread open one of his eyelids with the other, bottle clinched between his fingers, ready to drop. Just as Barney had expected Clint knocked Elton's arm away just before he kicked him in the chest. The eye-drop bottle bounced across the floor, as Elton landed on his back. Nick turned his gun on Clint, but Barney ran towards him, pushing him back against the opposite wall, gun aimed at the ceiling. On the floor Clint had jumped onto Elton, pinning his arms down with his knees, and landed a solid hit just behind his ear. It was his last shot before he was sent flying to the side and bounced off the wall just below the window. Elton stole a quick glance his way before grabbing Barney off of Nick and sent him back to the floor beside Mara. Nick smiled and aimed the gun at Clint who was sitting up slowly, across the room from him.

"Damn it." Elton said as he pulled zip-ties from his back pocket and threw a few at Nick before, picking up the eye drops, and moving over to Clint.

"I really wish you hadn't done that." He said as he began to fasten Clint's feet together. He looked around for something to tie his good hand to, but the room was an empty box. He would have to take the brace off. "Stupid move man." He looked back at Nick still working on Barney, "Finish up and help me over here." When he turned back around Clint seemed to look him in the eyes and said, "I hope they're making it worth it." Elton wouldn't walk away from this the same as he was when he walked into and they both knew it.

He held Clint's hand down at the wrist, the archer's arm muscles tightened and flexed, ready for another fight, "Not even close, bud. Not even close."

Barney watched as Nick moved away from him and over to Clint and the other man. His brother was blocked from view but he could hear the velcro rip, before the brace came out from between them. "Sons a'bitches." Barney said to no one and every one.

Nick stared him down as they left the room, but Elton avoided looking his direction. Beside him Mara was still breathing heavily in bursts. Barney kept his eyes on Clint who was watching straight ahead, waiting.

"Go to him." Mara nudged his shoulder, "Please." He nodded and scooted across the floor.

As he came closer Clint seemed to grow incomprehensibly more still. Barney turned so that his hands which, unlike Clint's, had been tied behind his back, could reach him. He searched for Clint's palm and ended up tapping his leg. He hoped he would recognize the gesture all the same, _"Yes...no...yes..."_

"Barnes."

 _"Yes."_

"It just us?"

 _"Yes."_

"Mara okay?"

Barney looked at her. "I will be." She assured him.

He frowned and tapped, _"No."_

"Get her out of here. If you see an opening-"

 _"No."_ Barney interrupted him. He had made a promise not only to Mara, but to himself, he would fix this. He would find a way to get them all out. There couldn't be any other option.

"Just get-"

 _"No."  
_

"Now's not the time to play hero B-"

 _"NO."_

Clint shook his head. There was no arguing. It was pointless. Damn it all. A few minutes passed and he asked, "You still have a knife?"

 **Break**

A block over Phil and Natasha were taking a break from running in circles. Whomever had Clint had a signal buffer blocking them from narrowing his location any closer than within a city block. They had settled for a continued surveillance in the area. Maybe something would stand out. For now they were huddled into a small shop, taking shelter from a sudden rain storm.

Phil walked over to Natasha. A fresh cup of coffee in each hand. "With cream." He handed one over.

She took it from him, "Thanks." He stood beside her as she stared out the front window. Night had settled thick and muggy. Rain fell in streams, shining under the street lamp like a shimmering curtain of orange beads. The two stared silently watching the water fall and the pedestrians run for cover. Closer to them a couple ran by the shop window, arm in arm, laughing at the downpour. Care free.

Phil broke the silence, "I lived in Caracas once."

"Really?"

He took a sip, "It was a long time ago." Natasha waited for more but he continued to drink and watch out the window. She took him in. He hadn't been spending his time at a desk from what she could see. He'd been thrown into one kind of fire or another. He was singed around the edges. She wanted to ask what had happened to him. Was he okay? Where had he been? What had he been doing? There was also the harder questions to ask and no doubt answer. Like why he couldn't have sent a message to Clint, or to her, to any of them? They loved him and mourned him. Didn't he know he had left a gaping hole? Didn't he care? _Childish, pointless,_ she collected herself, "You remember Panama?"

He shook his head at the memory, "It rained buckets the entire mission and I still had to pull you two out kicking and screaming."

"We were a week away from bringing the mark in."

"You both had malaria. You were a week away from your funeral at best."

"Still a shame."

"I never knew if you were more upset that you lost the bad guy or that you went out on your backs?"

"Take your pick." She started to sip her coffee, but found she had no interest in it, before looking back out the window.

Phil took another sip from his own steaming cup.

Natasha couldn't stop her mind from wandering back, maybe it was a mistake, but she had to let him know. She broke the momentary silence, "Clint spoke at your funeral."

He looked at her, and lowered his drink. "My funeral." Of course there had been a funeral, and of course Clint had stood for him.

"It was very..." She took a breath, "He loves you. He's missed you."

Phil looked away, lips tight for a second, "He's family in all but blood, and there's even a little of that too."

"I know." She had seen it.

He looked at her, "I'm sorry things went the way they did."

"I doubt you had much choice." It was as much a question as statement.

He stared into his black coffee, "I wish I could've been there." He glanced up, "In New York."

It was answer enough, "You were."

"Was I."

"Absolutely."

He watched her, "Does he blame himself much for what happened?"

She didn't look away, "You know he does."

He nodded and tossed his nearly full cup into a nearby trash can, "We should get back to looking."

* _A/N: Thanks as always for your patience and for coming back! I'll admit this chapter has been waiting for me to decide what to do with it for at least a week now. I've really struggled with taking Clint's sight from him. I just didn't want to do it, but it's already been planned out and I feel like if I back away from that plan I'll just inevitably walk away from the story. Which I can't do. Please don't hate me for being so terrible, awful, low-down, mean, and cruel!  
_


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Clint looked around the room. He could get them out of this. There had to be a way. There was always a way. By subconscious intent or natural human imperfection every bad guy left an opening. It only took seeing it. Even at that their odds were not good. Him, brain foggy and eyes clouded, and Mara at the tail end of her pregnancy, but the will to survive could get your through things that you would never believe possible. And they did have a stroke of luck in that Nick had been in charge of checking them for weapons, and hadn't bothered to look over Barney. He still had the knife Clint had given him back at the hotel tucked into his waistband.

Barney was still sitting back to him, hand tapping his leg on occasion. "Give me the knife Barn." It took a minute but Barney handed it over. Clint took the plastic tie around Barney's wrists and sliced it with ease. "Keep your hands behind your back."

Barney looked over at Mara who was holding her belly and watching from across the room. Behind him Clint flipped the blade and sliced through his own restraints, he leaned forward and did the same with his legs, keeping the tie laying over his ankles. "Here." He handed it over to Barney, but didn't release it right away.

"Trust me." Barney said under his breath and looked over his shoulder at his brother. Clint was looking off in the distance where he had seen something stir. It was a look Barney now recognized. He had been snatched from reality for the briefest of seconds. He started tapping at his leg. Finally, Clint let go of the knife and looked away.

"So it's the three of us, against the four of them, right." He was trying to think out loud, to collect, to shake off the phantoms.

" _No."_ Barney hadn't seen Elton when they walked through. He hadn't counted him the first time around. He took Clint's hand and counted off on the tips of five fingers.

"Shit."

"Yeah."Barney said aloud.

It was only one more, it didn't change their already lousy odds that much. He went back to thinking. "They come in often?"

" _No."_

"Come in pairs?"

 _"Yes."_ pause, _"No."_

He took it as a sometimes they did, sometimes they came in alone. It could mean anything from their numbers shifted to they were disorganized. Any of which was a good sign, "Alright, you okay, physically?"

Barney's head was still ringing from the butt of the gun to his temple, but otherwise he was fine. The little scuffle with Nick was nothing, _"Yes."_

"Mara, you feeling okay?" He looked in her direction. Her form was clearer now and her features were painfully close to being clear enough to read.

"I'll be fine." She said from across the room.

Reluctantly Barney answered, _"Yes."_ Unaware that Clint hadn't really needed him to translate. Mara had been slightly shaking her head yes.

"So we have a little time." He took a breath, he could fall back into oblivion if he allowed himself. Barney was watching Mara. She was still in pain that seemed to come in waves. He doubted they had even the little time Clint thought.

Behind him Clint closed his eyes, head back against the wall, and said, "Eyes are comin' back. Maybe we just give 'em a little time, take it from there."

Barney didn't respond at first, he felt the weight of the blade at his waist, and the push of the reaper at the door. _"No."_

Clint opened his eyes again and looked at Barney. He could make out the line of his beard, the curve of his shoulders and across the room he thought he could make out a wave to Mara's long brown hair, the oval of her face and her dark eyes, wide with concern, but not for him. She was holding her round stomach. "Okay." He sat up again, and shook his head. He rubbed his neck, "We'll have to take them off guard."

Barney looked over his shoulder at Mara, "Can you walk?"

"I will. I'll fly if I have to." She straightened her back. She would be ready.

Barney looked back to Clint, his brothers eyes followed him this time. He waved his hand in front of his face and Clint frowned, "What are you doing?"

"Just checking." Barney pulled his hand away.

"The guy on me had a bad left knee. One solid kick and you'll slow him down." He swallowed, "Mara needs to stay by me. We'll keep each other standing." He looked back at the woman who was still watching the exchange. "We can do this." It wasn't a question. He was rallying the troops.

She nodded in understanding. He looked back to the washed out mass that was Barney. "This a window above me?"

He decided to speak along with the taps, "Yep."

"Not an option I take it."

"Hell no."

"Never that easy." He looked around the dim room, "If I could just..." He dropped it, there was nothing productive about impossible ifs.

Barney watched, he could come up with some ideas but unable to share them with him it was pointless. Clint would have to be the one to call the shots.

Clint looked back at him, eyes still red. "When you're ready make noise, get them back in here. Wait behind the door and jump the last guy through, move fast as you can, put the knife to his throat. Take his gun and give it to Mara. Mara, you keep the gun aimed at the first person through the door, or anyone that comes in after. Stay calm, look them in the eyes, don't let them doubt you'll use it." He looked between the two. "If we can't sneak out of here. We'll just have to walk out the front door." He looked down at his hands, one still gloved, a phantom laugh came through the tinnitus. "I won't be much help. I can keep Mara on her feet but..." He shook his head. The damn drugs were not giving up the ghost without a fight.

Barney was tempted to give him the time he knew he needed, but it wasn't an option. He glanced at Mara. She nodded, she was ready when he was. He tapped Clint's knee to get his attention. He looked up. "Ready?" He asked.

Clint squinted, "Going for it?"

" _Yes."_ "It's now or never."

"Let's go." He shifted back against the wall. Looking as if nothing had changed since Elton and Nick had been in nearly an hour ago.

Barney nodded, looked at Mara, and walked over to the door. "Hey! Hey, we need some help in here! Hey!"

Clint watched the door, bracing himself. It took a few minutes of Barney's pounding to get a response, but eventually a slim man with gun in hand came through the door. He was staring right at Clint who held his gaze while Barney raced forward, and put the knife at his throat. To Clint's surprise Mara jumped up and ripped the gun from Alvin's hand with a measure of skill. She turned it on him and he raised his hands in defeat. Clint stood and made it to Mara in quick time, wrapping his good arm around her waist. He could feel her lean into him.

"You're a dead man." Alvin was saying to Barney.

"Not yet. Open the door." Alvin did as he was told, moving slow and careful as Barney kept the blade pressed close. Behind them Mara and Clint watched. "You good?" He asked her. She looked up at him for a brief second, nodding. She wished she could ask him the same, just as a spasm of pain briefly took all strength from her legs. She didn't move, didn't stumble. He was holding her up just as he'd said he would. The only tell that it wasn't as easy as he made it seem was the tight flexing of his jaw, and the hard, squinted stare.

They moved through the larger room, the exit door only a couple feet away when Elton stepped out of one of the rooms behind them. "What the hell is-" Barney turned around to face him, showing him the knife to Alvin's throat. "Don't move."

Mara turned the gun on him as well. Elton raised his hands, "Easy, easy. I'm not moving." There was a look exchanged between the brothers that Clint saw in Elton's eyes. The fighter looked at Clint after Alvin, and held his gaze, unwavering. They started moving back to the door and made it out and to the elevator without trouble. "He's going to take the stairs as soon as we start down." Clint looked over at Barney.

"You're both so stupid." Alvin spit out.

Barney pushed the blade a little closer, "Watch it squirrel."

"It's a chipmunk dumb ass." Alvin nearly rolled his eyes at yet another rodent joke after a lifetime of them.

"Guess, You would know."

"Barney." Mara got his attention and glanced at the elevator buttons. They were close to the lobby. Beside her Clint took a deep breath. They were so close.

Barney pushed Alvin back against the rear wall pointing the knife at him. "Wombat, stay in the elevator." Mara glanced back at Alvin before the doors opened and she and Clint walked forward, Barney slowly backing out, knife concealed but eyes threatening Alvin if he moved.

Clint was looking for the stairwell exit, waiting for Elton to come barreling through at any minute. When the elevator doors closed and no one came from the stairs he looked at Barney, "This is too easy."

It was then clapping came from the front doors. A man Barney had only seen once, driving the car that had delivered them here, came walking up to them, Conrad by his side. Charlie Last was older than any of the others. Tall with silver running through much of his black hair and tightly groomed beard. He had a calm commanding presence that left little doubt that he knew he would be followed. It was clear to Clint he was staring at the ringleader of the group. This was the man who had contact with Cross. Conrad was smiling by his side. "Good show. Now it's time to go back upstairs."

"We're not going anywhere but outside." Barney started to move forward, but stopped when Clint and Mara didn't follow. He turned around, Mara was holding the gun to Clint's head, tears in her eyes. _I'm sorry,_ she mouthed. Clint was going between watching him and Last.

"Mara, I don't..." Barney looked back at Last and Conrad, who had a gun of her own trained on him now.

"Barney Barton meet Mary Walker." Last was talking to Barney, but his eyes stayed on Clint.

Barney looked to Mary, "Mara?"

She shook her head and looked away from him.

"Don't blame her Barton. She's nuts." He twirled his finger around his temple, "Unstable. Multiple personalities. She actually started to believe she loved you. That she found you on her own. She just got a little lost in the con." He looked at Mary, "Silly girls." He slapped his hands together, "Now, everyone back upstairs and we'll talk shop."

"No." Barney looked back to Mary, "You get her to a hospital."

The leader watched him, eyes narrowed, before he chuckled, "Sure." He looked at Conrad, "Kelly, take care of Miss Walker would you."

Conrad smiled, "My pleasure."

"All good then? Upstairs." He walked forward but paused beside Barney. "Oh, and I'll take the blade."

His fight was momentarily gone. He started to hand the knife over without protest, but Clint wasn't so willing to give up. He turned on Mary, taking the gun with ease and aimed it at the leader, backing away as he did, "Barney! Head for the door." But Barney didn't move and Clint didn't have a chance to react before Elton darted behind him, and the world went black. _  
_

Conrad and Mary watched as Clint was dragged into the elevator and Barney walked inside, knocked out in his own way. "Let's go." Conrad headed for the door.

Mary waited, holding her belly, "What are you going to do to them?" She met Barney's eyes as the elevator doors slowly closed.

"You gotta snap out of this _Mara_ act already. It's disturbing." Conrad said as she started to walk toward the front doors. Mary continued to stare at the closed elevator doors, the lit numbers above ticking away. It hadn't been an act, maybe at first, but she had fallen in love with Barney. She had forgotten she was playing him. She had forgotten she was anyone but Mara until something Last had said had seemed to wake her from a dream. She had forgotten her anger, her rage, her hate. She had forgotten everything, but she was remembering. She turned around when Conrad yelled from the doors, "Coming?"

She walked forward, tapping her fingers against her swollen abdomen, "Where to?"

Conrad smiled, "Someone has to distract the Hawk's partner. Think you can play the damsel in distress a little longer? Lose the bun and keep her off our tails?" She gestured to Mary's belly where her fingers still tapped distractedly.

Mary shrugged, "Shouldn't be a problem." The Barton in her womb had been trying to fight its way out for hours, and what better use for this thing that her alter-ego had allowed into her body than to use it to help seal its father and uncle's doom? That had been its destiny from the start hadn't it. A monstrous side of herself that she had been suppressing emerged and she smiled at Conrad. It was too wonderfully cruel. It was just what they deserved.

Conrad caught the look, "There she is."

She opened the doors and walked out into the night, Mary stepping up beside her. Above them the clouds parted to reveal a full moon with a glowing halo that filled the dark gap in the sky.

 _A/N: Once again I'm hijacking an established Marvel character for my own purposes. Mary Walker is not mine, but I am (just like with the death throws) making her fit into this AU._


	14. Chapter 14

_Sorry about the long wait on this one and thank you for coming back! We're getting close to the end and I hope to have the last few chapters out before May (fingers crossed). My computer is probably on its way out and I managed to get this chapter loaded to the FF doc manager only by some miracle. So, if my ancient desk-top does go belly up (more fingers crossed it doesn't) I'll just add new chapters to this chapter. If you're following I'll try to send you a PM that I've added on a new chapter. I'm sorry for the potential inconvenience and my ridiculous computer issues. Hope to see you on the traffic stats soon ;-)_

 _*Content warnings for language and abundant angst._

 _A/N: This has been revised since the original posting._

 **Chapter 14**

Mary was walking behind Conrad, her alternate, softer side seeping back to the forefront, taking the reigns once again. The blonde stopped, turned and asked her, "You remember the plan?" They had been walking for a few minutes in hopes of coming across Natasha who had been seen circling the neighborhood for hours, along with a man in a suit that had been stripped of its jacket and tie in the earlier heat of the day.

"Damsel in distress. Set-up the pieces and get out of the way. Listen Kelly..." She began to speak but paused, Conrad was a shark who masqueraded as something human. Any hint of blood in the water and she'd be hungry for more. It only meant that what she was about to ask would have to be delivered as a demand and not a plea. "Watch out for Barney."

Conrad stared at her a moment as if waiting for her to add a joke, but when she didn't her face fell. "You mean like, watch out for him, watch out for him? You cannot seriously care for that...he's a mark for crying out loud Mary. A stupid-"

Mara cut her off, "I don't. Believe me, but two years, I've been in this for two years with him and..." She leaned forward as a contraction turned her body into a tight, painful knot.

Conrad stopped watching her, intentionally ignoring her distress. Instead she watched the sidewalks and streets around them. "I get it. You slipped up, it happens..." She shrugged, "but that doesn't change the game plan. It doesn't change anything for the rest of us."

Mary resurfaced, pulled herself from the backseat of their shared mind, and stared Conrad in the eyes with a dark, murderous gaze. "I can make it change everything." Mara visibly shook off her own threat along with the other woman. The one who was already audibly imagining all the ways she could make Conrad suffer.

Conrad stared at her a moment, deciphering which part of Mary she was speaking to, before looking back around the street, "You're really threatening me for him? I guess _Bloody Mary's_ a romantic after all." As Conrad understood it Last had found her in some secure psychiatric hospital, guilty of going on a male-only killing spree. Something about a psychotic break making her go after men accused of abuse of one form or another. Setting her up with Barney had been a gamble, but the stakes were still low at that point in the game. If she snapped and offed him Last would've still had time to adjust. He hadn't foreseen her falling in love with Barton, losing herself so completely.

Mara looked away and pushed her dark hair behind her ear. "That's not me."

"Just part of you right." Conrad scoffed as she pulled a piece of bubble gum from her pocket. She twisted the ends of the wrapper open, before popping the pink cylinder into her mouth and saying, "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Mara looked away, her body was trembling from a passing contraction.

"Don't thank me yet." Conrad had started to walk again but stopped and turned to face Mary, "The bird's partner is across the street. The redhead, see?" She nodded across the street, toward the sidewalk where a man and woman were walking a few yards away, "Can't miss her." She pulled a grey beanie from her pocket and it slid it over her nearly white blonde hair, making sure to tuck any stray tendrils under the hat. She looked at Mary and said, "Nothing personal..." as she pulled a gun from her waist along with a small dark ball, "But you better start running lovely."

Mary's eyes narrowed. She took off, haltingly, in the direction of Natasha, Phil beside her, "Help!" She yelled just as Conrad fired a shot in her direction. She stumbled on the curb and looked over her shoulder at the other woman who smiled, winked, and threw the round smoke bomb before disappearing behind the cloud that slowly drifted Mary's way.

Phil ran to her side, Natasha beside him, watching the direction Conrad had run. "I'll stay with her. Go!" Phil said, looking over the pregnant woman as Natasha took off across the street.

Mary braced herself from yet another spasm and clutched at Phil's arms, "Help me please. They're going to kill me." She looked back in the direction of Conrad, where a cloud of smoke blocked the sidewalk and the two women beyond.

"You're going to be okay." Phil reassured her, watching the same direction she was before looking around for any other threats.

"They were going..." She clenched her teeth as pain shot through her abdomen and down her legs. Her labor was progressing quickly now. Too quickly.

"You're safe now." Phil couldn't attest to the medical truth in that statement, but he could vouch for the general sense of it. "Can you walk?" He was cradling her arms. Mary nodded, "I think so." Together they stood and walked slowly back toward the curb. After a few minutes Natasha reappeared. She took one of Mary's arms and looked at Phil, "She's gone. Quick little..." She looked at the brunette between them, "Mara?"

She nodded, "You know me?"

Natasha frowned, "I know Barney."

She looked up, wide eyed, _Do it,_ her other self whispered in her ear. "He's gone. He...he killed him."

"What?" Phil asked while Natasha echoed with a, "Who?"

"Barney's brother...he, he killed him." She began to cry, her legs trembling beneath her. She had to finish what she had started. If she had any chance of walking out of this she would have to push forward.

Natasha looked over at Phil, "It's a mistake."

Phil took a breath, he wasn't one to believe any thing the first time he heard it, but he also wasn't going to pick at her story here and now while they struggled in the street. Instead he focused on one question he couldn't not ask, "Is he alive, Barney's brother?" He looked around quickly for a cab before looking back to her.

She nodded yes. "He's...he's one of them." Shame wrapped her. Clint had been kind to her, thoughtful. He had risked everything for her and for Barney. _Not you stupid. The act, the ploy._ _What would he do if he knew who you really are? What we are?_ She pushed the other woman away and watched her bare foot slide into a puddle on the sidewalk. It was warm as a bathtub and if she tried she could imagine the light's reflection that curved and swayed in the water was that of a candle, burning by a tub, a lifetime away from this moment.

Natasha's jaw clenched and Phil stopped watching for a car for a moment to watch Mara swirl her toe in the water. After a long, silent moment he squeezed her arm, "We're getting you to the hospital. Hang in there." He looked over her dark head at Natasha who was still seething.

Break

Clint was out cold. Barney had been watching him from across the room long enough that the moon was no longer visible through the window above Clint's head. Light teased its approach to the horizon well out of view of the window's ledge. He was still spinning from the turn of events. Mara, his Mara, was a fraud. Their life was nothing more than an act to get to this. To get to Clint. He was so predictably willing to sacrifice his brother that he had made it just a matter of setting up the dominoes. He slammed his head back against the wall, cursing himself under his breath. When had he become so stupid? Love, a little family, what bullshit. How could he ever believe that that was something he could have? It was a dream for a different kind of person, a different man. He was a con artist, a criminal, always had been. There was no room in his life for love. How could he have been so blind, so damn stupid?

His mind continued with the self-abuse while he watched Clint stir slightly, his head falling to his opposite shoulder, the shoulder with the long black communications glove. He wouldn't let them play him again. There was nothing left but his brother, and Barney would be damned if he would ever have any hand in his destruction again.

Clint opened his eyes, blinked, and sat up straighter. "Hey." He shook his head before sliding back down into a slump.

"Hey." Barney said, before dropping his head, not knowing if there was any point in speaking.

Clint's eyes narrowed, "Back up here." He looked around the room before his eyes settled on Barney. "How you doin'?"

Barney shrugged, "Never better. You?"

Clint watched him a moment, "Bee's knees." Barney looked crushed, deflated. There was no point in avoiding talking about her, "I'm sorry about Mara."

"Don't. I fucked up, man. I-"

"You couldn't have known."

"No?" He shrugged, "Doesn't change anything." He lifted his chin toward Clint, "I take it your eyes are back."

"Distance is good." Clint held up his good hand, "Close is still blurry as hell." He rubbed his forehead before dropping his head back against the wall. He was going to have a headache like a jackhammer to the skull.

Barney looked over as the doorknob twisted open and Last looked inside. He saw Barney looking at him but his attention went straight to Clint before walking into the room and stopping nearly at Clint's feet. "Glad to see you awake. We can talk plans." He turned and looked at Barney a second before looking back to Clint who shifted against the wall and said, "Back up."

Last smiled, "Excuse me?"

"Maybe your stinks making him sick." Barney spit the words through his teeth.

Last smiled wider, and turned to look back at Barney, "Mary, I mean, Mara has been taken care of."

"What did you do?!" Barney raised off the floor ever so slightly.

"She's with friends." He looked back to Clint. "Now, to business."

"I can't read your lips if you don't back the hell up." He said the last bit slowly.

Last backed away. He knew all about Clint's hearing and thanks to Cross he also knew his implants had been smashed to bits. The only surprise was that Stark hadn't replaced them yet. He rocked on his heels and displayed a file folder he had been holding behind his back. "This." Last threw it to the floor at Clint's feet, "Is a job. Your job to be more specific."

"You're gonna have to give me more than that." Clint kicked the folder back to Last who slowly leaned down to pick it up.

"Of course. Your eyes." He said as he tisked, "Nasty little combo of poisons your brother gave you." He opened the folder and pulled out a picture of a middle aged man in a suit, security guards on either side of him. He held it up, "This is President Padilla, loved by the people, a harbinger of hope and prosperity." Clint swallowed. He could feel the bad news coming, "You're going to assassinate him this evening." Last flicked the picture back to Clint where it bounced off his chest and landed face up onto his lap. Last waited until he looked back up to continue, "No shot from a rooftop though, no hiding your work in the shadows. You're going to walk up as close to him as you can while he gives a nationally televised speech. You're going to shoot him down in front of his adoring people, in front of the cameras. In front of the world."

"That's a death sentence." Barney spoke up from behind Last.

Last smiled at Clint, "If he's lucky."

Clint didn't move, his eyes didn't falter, "It's not happening."

Last pursed his lips and bobbed his head over-zealously, "Oh, I think it is." Last ticked and paced in a very small circle before stopping and looking at Clint again, "You remember your brother's shop, or should I say the pile of ash that was your brother's shop?"

He knew where he was going. There was nothing new in the threat he was making, "If you harm a single soul I'll-" Clint leaned forward

"Shhhh. Now." Last leaned down to eye level, "It's simple really. If you don't do this, Barney along with an entire crowd of people are going to be just like that gaping hole along the sidewalk. Here one minute..." He spread his hands open before standing, "And I can still make them point the finger at you." He waited a beat before continuing, "So, it's one stranger, or your brother there along with a crowd of innocent men, women, and children. Presidential assassin or mass murderer? What will it be _hero_?"

Clint looked away, down at the blurred picture in his lap. Barney spoke up again. "You fuckin' psychopath!"

Last looked over his shoulder at the older Barton now working at the restraints around his wrists more than ever, "No need for name calling. I'm just doing my job." He stood, "I was hired to destroy you both. To tear you down, demolish you, until you had nothing left. Until the world despised you as much as you despise yourselves. To bring you so low death would be a reprieve." He looked between the brothers, "Almost there."

"If he doesn't get to you first..." Barney's resolve showed.

Last smiled, "Please try Bernard." He began to walk toward the door but stopped next to Barney, "Oh, by the way. Congratulations boys." He caught Clint's attention as he looked back and forth between the two brothers, "You have a little girl in the family now. She's frail, unfortunately, likely to take a turn for the worse at any minute." Last crossed his fingers and held them up, "But here's hoping she'll hang in there long enough for one of you to say goodbye."

Break

Across town Mary was recovering in the hospital, Phil was watching the nursery, and Natasha was keeping an eye on the sleeping woman. The sun was nearing the horizon, bathing the room in a warm pre-dawn light. Natasha was looking out the window, chewing on her lip. The news played on the small t.v. behind her. There had been world stories first, even one lighthearted piece about Ironman flying over the start of a football game, before going into more local news.

Apparently they had very little to do back home. She should have called them. She should have asked for help. Clint's words rang through her thoughts though. They had had too much bad press lately, too much destruction, more chaos was the last thing they needed. It was best to keep it small, quiet. If only they could find Clint maybe she would start to believe that.

Mara couldn't tell them where she had come from. She said she had been blindfolded, pushed out the door, chased and told to run. She had met them in a frantic haze. Natasha was suspicious, but no matter, it brought them no closer to finding her partner. She cursed herself for ever going along with this insanity. For not grabbing him and telling him to stay with her. To forget saving Barney, forget saving the world, and just stay with her. Be with her. Whatever that would mean. Whatever he would think it implied.

The news anchor began talking about the preparations for the Presidents speech that evening, excitement evident in his voice. They cut to a reporter out in the street where crowds were already forming despite the predawn hour, banners were hanging from balconies. The president was new enough that the public still loved him, believed in him, and his speech was expected to draw people from all over the country. At first Nat ignored it, too caught up in her thoughts, before a light went off. Could there be a connection? It seemed plausible. In fact, it seemed likely, and beyond coincidence that they were here, now. She still couldn't believe that he was with Mara's abductors, or that he had killed Barney, but she wondered. People could be manipulated, hypnotized, drugged to do things that would be unimaginable and outside of their nature. Even Clint wasn't beyond that truth. For a split second she thought of Loki and the ice he had placed in Clint's eyes before Mara moved on the bed, pulling her from her thoughts.

The other woman frowned and looked around the room, "Where's my baby?"

"The nursery. She's okay, Phil's keeping an eye on her." Natasha stood and walked toward the bed, "Just relax."

Mara sat up, eyes wide, "I want her in the room with me."

"She can't leave the NICU." Natasha said kindly, but as a matter of fact as she sat down on the bed beside her.

"No, no. I want my baby!" Mara's concern was sincere. She knew exactly what Last and his group was capable of and not even an infant would be safe.

"Mara, calm down. She's in good hands."

"No, They'll kill her." She was gripped by a momentary fear, a remembered task, _come on you idiot_ her other self berated her. She had to set up the pieces. It was her only job left and then she would be free, "They'll send that monster here to kill her."

Natasha put her hand on Mara's arm, "She's safe."

"You don't understand. He..." She couldn't bring herself to finish the lie.

"He won't get to her." Natasha looked up and out the window. She would have to do what she could to protect Clint from himself if it came to it. If he came after his own family, an infant. No, she wouldn't let it happen. She steeled herself for the possibility of taking down her best friend, her partner, whether it be here or later and looked back to Mara, "I promise."

Break

Barney had been watching Clint since Last left the room, "You're not doing it. Right?"

Clint was lost in his thoughts, "Francis!" He yelled, hoping it would be loud enough.

Clint looked at him, frowning, uncertain. Barney repeated himself now that he had his attention, "You're not doing it."

"No." He looked up, taking in the grid of ceiling tiles, before looking back at Barney. "Congratulations dad." He smiled, "A girl."

Barney swallowed, "A girl." He grinned weakly, "You were wrong."

"She'll need you."

"If..."

"No ifs Barn. She'll need you."

Barney recognized the look in his brother's eyes, "I take it you're getting at something."

"Time to be a dad." Clint gestured to the ceiling tiles, raising an eyebrow. _See that?_

"The vent?"

Clint put a finger to his lips before pointing at Barney and then up to the opening. He hadn't seen it before, too blinded by the drugs they had given him. Not that it would have been an option with Mara.

"No."Barney said quickly. He wasn't about to leave him behind, "I wouldn't fit in there anyway."

"You will. Just keep moving forward." Barney started shaking his head no. Clint lowered his voice. "You can follow it to another office and slip out, take a side exit, stick to the alleys. Find Nat. Tell her what's going on and then find your girl." Barney continued shaking his head no, "It's our only shot left."

"No." He stared him down, "We both go or we both stay."

"Ah, you stubborn, stupid ass." Clint rubbed his hand through his hair, more frustrated at his own inability to get them out of this than angry at Barney. "Sorry, that was...I didn't..."

At that Barney grinned, "Runs in the family. Stupid, I mean."

"Damn it Barney don't do that." He was tired of the jokes, of the deflecting, the false humor. People were going to die and he didn't have time for a nudge and wink.

"I'm not leaving you behind." He sniffed and looked out the window over Clint's head. The sky was turning to a crisp, clear, deep blue of morning before the haze of day would roll in to dampen the light.

"No, you're getting out. You're getting backup. You're saving the god damn day Barney." He lowered his voice again, "Get out of your own head and think for five seconds."

He remained silent. Seconds passed into minutes before Barney finally nodded, and Clint did the same, looking away a second. "We separate, we survive. Simple."

"Same old story huh." Barney continued to watch him but Clint didn't respond. There was nothing to say. "Frannie, You know this is the end of the line."

"It is if you don't get your ass up."

"You gotta do me a favor. You gotta remember who I was. When we were kids you know." Maybe it wasn't the time or the place. Maybe he was being too emotional, but he was losing everything, everything that he was just starting to believe he had. Clint was all that was left. He still had his little brother in this moment and he'd be damned if he didn't reach out.

"Ah, for cryin' out loud Barns would you just..." He gestured to the exit in the ceiling again.

"No! You don't owe me shit, but please, do it anyway. Say you'll try to remember."

Clint took a deep breath, watching Barney as he did. He shifted, clearly Barney was not moving until he had his peace, "I remember. Who do you think taught me to get back up when it would be easier," He grinned, "maybe smarter, to stay down?"

Barney scoffed, "Yeah, well you can never accuse me of being smart." He waited a moment before adding, "I taught you a lot of things I wish I could take back."

Clint took in his brother. Barney was crumbling, straining to keep it together, and though he could tap into a well-spring of anger over all his betrayal and abuse over the years it would do them no good. He would have to do exactly what Barney was asking. He would have to remember the older brother he'd had and talk to the brother of his youth. "When we were kids, back on the farm, in state homes and one foster hell after another. You got me through those times. No one else." He stopped a moment to collect himself, to accept that they were going here for a while. That the only way to move the boulder that was Barney's current mental state would be face what he asked head on. "You picked me up time and again. You wouldn't let me give up. Barney, you gave me hope that we could dust ourselves off and the next place would be better. That we could take everything life handed out and then some. That it was just a matter of standing up and trying it again. That's who I remember."

Barney started shaking his head. More shamed by Clint's words than comforted. "I left you to..." Could he ever admit to Clint that he believed he had killed him. That he thought his little brother had died by his hand. That for years when he thought of Clint, he saw his blood pushing its way sluggishly through the sawdust and dirt. That he thought of his questioning eyes watching him run, watching him leave him to die. His gaze never faltering.

"Forget it. One more faded scar, all it adds up to." Clint looked at the ceiling again for a split-second. Barney could see the anger in his eyes despite the dismissal in his words and so he pushed. Maybe he wanted, maybe he needed Clint to rage, to let it out before he wouldn't have another chance. Before they went to their graves with things unsaid. "Sixteen. I look back and you were just a freakin' kid."

"So were you."

"No I wasn't, not really, and I shoulda faced a judge for what I did. I shoulda had to answer to somebody."

Clint looked up from reading Barney's lips, "Sounds like you've been answering to somebody for a long time."

"Bullshit. It's not the same and you know it."

Clint shrugged and shifted uncomfortably, "I know that look."

"What look?" Barney asked, genuinely curious. He didn't have a look.

"Guilt. A shame that eats away at you bit by tiny bit." He leaned forward, "The need for somebody to slap you down for what you've done so you can move on. Punishment dealt, guilt accepted, so that the world, your world, can keep spinning." He paused, squinting, "I bet you've never given yourself permission to live a life that doesn't make you miserable Barnes."

"Shit." He ran his hands over his beard, "Yeah, could be." He looked around the room a moment before looking back up at Clint. This conversation wasn't for him alone though, "What about you? You happy Francis?"

Clint sideways grinned, "I could be if you'd get the hell up."

"Are you?" It was Barney's turn to slap down any levity.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Alright, forget being happy. Stupid b.s. anyway, but would you change things? If you had a life do-over would you take it?"

"No."

"None of it?"

"No." He shrugged, "Maybe small things, moments, choices here and there, but the big stuff, what you're getting at, no way in hell."

"Really?"

"For one it's a pointless thing to be thinking about. There are no do-overs. You accept, you move on. But I wouldn't because everything has lead me to a life where I get to stand up for those who can't. I get to be the shield between the innocent and the monsters in the dark."

Barney stared at him, his little brother, tired, so close to being used up that it hurt to look at him, and he couldn't help but call him out. "A shield for the innocent. Sounds pretty noble Francis, but you're just fightin' the past. You know that?" He could see Clint's jaw tighten and flex from where he sat. He had hit a nerve at last.

Clint took a breath and sat up straighter, "Maybe you should try it. Beats the hell out of the pity party you're living in."

"Maybe you should stop before you get yourself killed."

Clint grinned without amusement, "You worried about me?"

He could see something in Clint's eyes, an intensity he reserved for those on the opposite team, but he couldn't stop the train he was on. He would get it out, now before he left him, before he lost him. "I am. Because you know what I see? I see your fear. Sure you're standing up, you're takin' the punches for everyone else, but you haven't moved on. You haven't left the fight. For all your talk you're still trying to protect yourself from the old man, from the foster frauds, the ticket pushers...me. You wanna talk about being eatin' away bit by little bit, about not letting yourself be anything but miserable? Look in the mirror Francis."

Clint's jaw tightened. He was momentarily silenced before he finally nodded and looked back to Barney, "You may be right. Maybe I'm still fighting old ghosts, but at least I'm doing something. At least I didn't use my bad choices, or things done in the past, as an excuse to hurt others; To trick them and use them for my own gain. At least I stood up. At least I became a man."

"That's it. Come on! Get it out!"

"Fuck you Barnes! What do you want from me!?"

"I want you to get it off your chest. Let me have it! I can see it Frannie. I can see you drowning and I know, I know sure as I can't do a god damn thing about it I gotta take some of the blame." He watched and waited. "I'm not leavin' it like this."

Clint grew quiet, but his thoughts were loud enough to fill the space. "If I'm struggling with anything now it's my own fight. My life's my own. It has nothing to do with you. I'm not the kid you left in the dirt or even the man you found in D.C. You understand?" The room was growing bright and he began to squint more, his pupils still dilated slightly larger than was comfortable against the growing light, "But you want the truth? I hated you for a long time. In some ways I guess I still do."

"Some ways?"

He shrugged and took another deep breath, "I thought, when we were kids, there was the two of us and the rest of the world. Us and them, you know. I never doubted it. Never. Even after you...did what you did. I held onto the belief that you had your reasons. That you would come back. That I'd give you a solid black eye, maybe a matching lip, and we'd move on."

"Frannie-"

Clint raised his hand slightly to stop him, "But at some point it was gone, that trust, and I was left with this anger, this rage, it left me numb and...I didn't care about anything. I didn't think. I did things, things I'm not proud of, and just when I was ready to give up on...a guy in a suit gave me his card, gave me a second chance." Clint stopped, overwhelmed with thoughts of Phil Coulson. He had to change the subject. He wouldn't let Barney into that part of his life. Those years of learning how to accept himself, to master his anger, to see the world as something other than an adversary. Barney wasn't welcome there. He looked back to Barney who was watching him, concerned. Why did that piss him off so much? "You know I got the farm? They couldn't find you..."

"You keep it?"

"I wasn't going to. I was going to tear it all down, burn the fields."

"You should have."

"Nah, I walked around it a while. Saw it for what it was."

"That so?"

"I guess I was expecting monsters in the shadows, you know, the devil at the door. But it was something else." Barney wanted to suggest a black-hole, a soul sucking abyss, but the look in Clint's eyes told him his brother wouldn't agree, so he remained silent. "Our great grandparents gave up everything they knew for that piece of land. Everything, so we could...so there would be a place...they built it and I couldn't tear it down. I couldn't walk away. I couldn't abandon it." He crossed his legs at the ankles.

"You restored the place?"

"I did." Clint's thin smile reached his eyes. He could see it now if he closed his eyes. The white boards, the green roof, the giant red barn that had been his sanctuary in those early, too tormented years with his parents. All that was gone now though. He had reclaimed the farm and made it his own. It was no longer some ghost of his past that could haunt him without his permission or summoning. No, it was now tamed and docile. It was his and he had put his heart into every neglected beam and shutter.

Barney ducked his head, scratching at the back of his neck with his cuffed hands,and hiding his words, "Better you than me." He couldn't share Clint's sentiment. He couldn't understand it.

"I want you to come and see it. Stay a while." It was an invitation made not only so that Barney could come to terms with the old home as he had, but as an olive branch. He was putting his safest place in the world on the table as a common ground. A shared sanctuary.

Barney looked up. Clint was serious. It was more than he deserved. He could only nod in response.

Clint looked down at his gloved hand. He shifted and cleared his throat, "I was going to tell you about it, the farm, back in D.C. I just never got around to it."

"Never got around to it." _One way to put it._ Barney looked up and out the window, avoiding Clint's eyes.

"You know, I think if, if I hadn't needed you back then..." He stopped and stared at Barney, uncertain if he wanted to show this particular scar that felt as if it could still tear if he pulled at the mending flesh. "I was still recovering from the..." Why couldn't he bring himself to say landmine, explosion, roof collapse? "...you know physically, mentally, and adjusting to..." He waved at his ear, "The fight back from something that changes everything, that places you outside the life you had, something that creates a before and after. It's isolating. I hadn't experienced something like that since we were..." He cleared his throat again, "I needed you like I hadn't needed you since I was a kid and you showed up at my door like you knew. Like you had heard me begging for..." He could feel the grip of his emotions around his throat and took a breath to ease them back far enough he could speak. He'd be damned if he would let Barney see it. He forced himself to look at his brother once more, "I was wrong about you though, and, honestly man, it destroyed me for a while. It did. And, alright, fine, I don't know how to forgive something like that. That level of, of brutal indifference is something I can't wrap my head around. I could never do something like that to you, never, but, whether you believe it or not, I have moved on. I have accepted that it's in the past and I can't change it. I can't close the door in your face and send you back to whatever hell hole you came from. I can't change who you are or what you've done." He looked at Barney who was ready to say something but he cut him off, "Or that you're my brother and I still love you, despite everything. That I want to believe in you. I want to believe that you're trying. That the Barney I knew is still in there. I want my brother back, whatever we got left, even if it may be a fucking awful idea."

Barney dropped his head. What could he say? How could he respond? He had wanted Clint to rage, to let it all out, and maybe to scrape him across the coals a little for what he had done. Still, he found he wasn't prepared for Clint's offer to try again, to trust him yet again, in the middle of their current situation. This bitter-tinged shot of hope. He took a deep breath before looking up again. "You know the last thing I remember mom saying to me? Not I love you, not be back soon." Clint watched him, waiting for him to continue, "It was just, take care of your little brother." Barney shook his head, "I failed her and I've more than failed you. Time and again. You never needed me to look out for you. I know that now, but I got so angry trying man. I blamed you for my failure, for needing me to be something I never could. I hated you for it. I don't know how you can welcome me back into your life. I don't deserve it, but we get out of this and I want that. I want to make up for...for everything."

Clint stretched both legs out in front of him, uncrossing his ankles, "It's something to fight for, right."

"Yeah."Barney dropped his head, shaking it, a thin smile tugged at his lips.

Clint looked around the small, grey box of a room, before looking back to Barney, "Maybe after all this, we make it through, we'll go to a support group or something."

"Shit Frannie. Can you picture it? How about a few beers and a bonfire at the homestead?"

"That. Is a better plan." Clint watched him a moment before looking up at the ceiling. That was it then, for now, there was nothing else to say. "Time to be the hero Barns."


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

 _Finally another chapter! Thanks as always for your patience and for coming back. My computer issues are resolved so we should be on track for the regular new chapter alerts from here on out. We only have a few chapters left and it's my goal to pump them out at a quick, steady pace from here on out._

Barney slid through the metal duct, his wrists still zip-tied together were scrunched in front of him and he had to shift his weight from side to side ever so carefully to keep from banging against the cramped walls around him. He had left Clint behind minutes ago with his shoulder no doubt in worse shape for having been used as a stepping-stool. There was no chance of pulling him up with him. The space was too tight. Once he was in here it was a matter of moving forward, or shuffling backwards. There was no turning around.

"This is..." Barney stopped moving as a voice raised from the room beneath him. "...we're dead. You know that, you gotta know that." Barney tried to still his breathing as the voices continued.

"Why can't you just admit this is a nice wad of cash? I did good."

Something shattered against the wall, "We're not walking out of here Al!" There was a pause, "That's a fucking Avenger in there. You think Last is going to leave two loose ends after this is done?" It was Elton, the lean, muscled hobby chemist. The other voice must have belonged to Alvin the skinny kid with an attitude. Barney knew guys like him. He was the kind that picked fights easily because his attitude was as pleasant as a dumpster needle and he looked like an easy fight. All limbs and scowl, but he wouldn't fight fair. He'd take any dirty, slimy, easy move he could find to save his own ass. He could relate. There was a time all he cared about was being the last one standing. What Clint had spun into some positive character trait of perseverance, and determination, was really just a pissed-off grab at self-preservation. There was no valor in it.

He thought about moving on, but curious, waited to see where the brother's conversation was going. Alvin was saying something now. It was low and muffled, conspiring, and Barney couldn't make it out.

"No." Elton spoke up. Clearly he wasn't one for huddled whispers. "We need to get the hell out of here."

"What about the plan?"

"He's pulling us around like dogs on a leash. Who cares about his plan?! We get out now, we live." There was another weighted pause, "And we take him with us."

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?!"

"We did our part. He's got nothing over us now and I never agreed to help him with something like this. I'm not leaving that guy to-" Barney could hear a door open, cutting off Elton's words.

There was a couple slow, small claps, and Barney could hear Last chuckle, "Elton, Elton, Elton. Oddball Healy. Always so contrary."

"We're done Charlie. Al and I are walking. I did what you asked. We're out."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Sure, sure. Go ahead." Out of Barney's sight Last stepped aside, clearing the way for Elton to walk to the door, but Alvin didn't move and Elton stopped to look back at him. It was the window Last needed. Barney could feel his heart picking up its pace as there was scuffling below him. After a few minutes grunts and thuds followed. There was one last loud crash when Alvin finally spoke up, "Ah no, ah no. No man, Odd, come on."

Last was clearly trying to catch his breath and his composure when he said, "Nasty toys your brother plays with."

"Ah man." Alvin sounded lost. Barney could only imagine what the kid was facing on the floor and in Last.

"Stand up for godsake. Throw him in with those two...or I might start to think you just stood there waiting for him to win." The door closed soon after and Barney could hear muffled sorrow coming from Alvin. It was only a matter of minutes before his absence would be noticed. He had to keep moving. He took as deep a breath his confinement would allow before continuing on.

Across town Natasha had risked leaving Mara's room to come to the intensive care nursery and speak with Phil, "It's a long shot but it makes sense. Don't you think?"

"It is plausible." Phil frowned as he looked from Natasha to the hall beyond.

"There's no other way he would harm Barney. No way. I can't believe he's had any hand in this. They've done something. They've manipulated him somehow and, and it has to be for this. To bring down the president. Who better to do it than one of the best shots out there."

"I don't believe Barton's part of this either. If he's being used and if this is Cross..." Phil had seen Cross in action. Back when he was still free to toy with the system, and manipulate not just individuals but groups, even nations for his own pleasure. To spread harm and destruction wherever he saw fodder for chaos. He was a virus. A parasitic disease. "...the President won't be enough."

"What are you saying?"

"We're not thinking of something. There's more to it than assassination."

"And destroying Clint in the process."

"Still. If this is happening, there's more going on."

Natasha crossed her arms, shaking her head, "I don't see what more he could want. What would be more harmful? He gets to mess with a nations stability and murder both..." She took a breath. She didn't want to finish that sentence. "He's been after Barney and Clint for a while now. Why wouldn't their demise, be his ultimate goal?"

"It could be. I could be wrong. I just think we're not seeing something. The presidents assassination for this country, for you and I, and Clint, even for the Avengers would be catastrophic. It would destroy Clint publicly and personally, but..."

"But?"

"This may be Cross' last chance to do something on a global stage. He may be after a lasting mark. Immortality."

"So what do we do?" There was a part of her, a cold callous side, that didn't care about any of Cross' other motives, or anyone else that could get caught in the crossfire, only finding Clint. The feeling passed as soon as it had come over her and left a thin lingering shame behind. Clint couldn't be the end-all to her focus. She had to think of the larger threat, the lives at stake.

"I think it's time we call in the team." Phil's voice broke through her thoughts. She crossed her arms, weight shifting to the other hip, "You don't think we can handle this quietly?"

"I think this is going to be very loud no matter what we do."

"Won't that wreck your "I'm dead" cover?"

"Who says I'm here? You're the only one whose seen me." His thin lips nearly smiled, almost.

Her eyes narrowed. That was it then. They didn't have Phil back, not really. "Back to the shadows then Coulson?"

"I never left them." He looked down at his shoes for a second, "We'll still work together, but the others-"

"I got it. Not a word. I'll tell Mara something. What about Clint? I mean, after all this, if he...I don't suppose a visit from the other side would be out of the question."

"He doesn't need it."

"Phil-"

"Nat, he knows. He doesn't need me...shoving the lie in his face."

She clenched her jaw, "Alright."

"Trust me. He wouldn't want me walking up to him after...he's not going to want that."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, "You sure of that?" In her opinion, he would want to see Phil after all this more than ever.

"I am. Now's not the time."

She wouldn't push anymore. It was Coulson's call to make even if it was ridiculously wrong. "When should I bring the others in?"

"Sooner the better. I'm sure Stark can have a private jet down here in hours, which, if you call now will give you just enough time to catch them up and get to the speech."

She pulled her phone from her pocket, ready to jump into action, "I'll give Padilla's security a heads up."

"No. We don't need an over-zealous guard trying to bring Clint in before we get to him."

"Then we better get to him first."

"That's the plan. We can't keep this quiet but we can minimize the focus on Barton. If we can make it look like he's just there with the Avengers no one will suspect. We'll grab him, however we have to, bring him in and take care of the situation."

"Whatever that turns out to be."

And there was the blaring truth. They didn't really know what was happening. He pushed his hands into his pockets, "We could be wrong about all of this. We could be moving on a bad hunch." They could be showing their hand for nothing. Putting all of their focus on one scenario, one potentiality and leaving everything else unprotected. There was a risk. She looked at her phone but made no move to call, "I think we're right."

"Me too, but you remember Glasgow."

"That wasn't our hunch."

"Points the same. We go left full throttle and all the action is happening to the right-"

"We could lose him." She finished his sentence.

Phil held her eyes a moment, "We may still."

Was he doubting her ability to be professional? She pulled on her training and no small amount of her pride, "I know the job Coulson."

"Just a reminder." She was only human after all, despite rumors to the contrary.

"Not necessary." Their tomorrows were never promised. They all knew it. She had accepted the loss that loomed on the horizon every time she walked beside him. Phil was trying to protect her heart, her soul, from what could be, but she had already given it over to that chance. She had accepted the potential cost of loving a man who walked the line Clint walked. It was one she walked as well and she knew he had had to do the same to love her. They had agreed to the danger, they had put that part of themselves on the table. They had risked the loss to have the time given them. There had been no other choice.

"No. Of course not." Phil watched her avoid his eyes by looking down the hall. How many years had they been partners now? The number was certainly in the double digits but he couldn't pin down how many exactly. There was no looking at Natasha and guessing how many years had passed. She barely aged. Her enhancements by the Red Room had taken care of that, along with a multitude of other things. Whatever the number it seemed a lifetime ago. When he had first pulled Clint into SHIELD. He had been such an angry, smart ass, but so hopeful. So determined to be more than the rage that consumed him. He'd had every excuse in the book to not even try. To say life had thrown him a bad hand and that was that, but he didn't. He'd known middle aged men who'd had to merely put one foot in front of the other to get through life with more self-pity than the nineteen year old Clint Barton. Some seven years later Natasha had come along, brought in by Clint. It was easy for Phil to see the similarities between them, the common ground. Her distrust ran as deep as the night long, with good reason, but Clint knew her language. He knew her. He talked her down from a ledge she didn't even know she was on.

Making this move, watching the presidents speech was acting on assumptions. They were raising the stakes and as far as they knew it could be playing into the other sides hand, or signing Clint's death sentence. But inaction wasn't an option. They couldn't sit back and rely on wishful thinking. They would have to try. The years behind them pressed on Phil. He looked down the hallway behind him before looking back to Natasha, "You ready to make the call?"

She had been patiently watching the play of emotions cross his face and didn't respond beyond a nod as she turned, put her phone to her ear, and walked away.

Break

Clint watched the door and felt the subtle vibrations around him. The central air had kicked on, though he would swear they had cut any airflow to this room. It meant Barney would be in a refrigerated wind tunnel at the moment. It would slow his progress. His, no doubt, already numb hands, the circulation cut off from being pinned beneath him, would be freezing and stiff. He hoped he was getting close to a safe place to drop before they were all but useless until the circulation returned. At least they hadn't thrown him back in here yet. So far, it didn't look like this would be another escape attempt for nothing.

He had no sooner thought it than the door opened. The skinny thug, Alvin was struggling to drag Elton into the room. He was walking in backwards, grunting as he held Elton under the armpits. He dropped him in the middle of the floor and turned to look at Clint. He said something, but his words were cut off by his hands running down his face and over his mouth. Clint didn't bother trying to respond. He just stared and waited for the inevitable discovery of Barney's absence. It took him a second but Alvin began to spin, looking around the room, "Where the hell is he?" He could make that out easily enough.

He dropped in front of Clint and grabbed at his shirt, "Where is he?" He yelled into Clint's face. It was oddly enjoyable to see the guy panicking and Clint couldn't help but smile at him. Alvin pushed him back against the wall as he stood and backed away from Clint. Both of his hands found either side of his head as he walked in a quick circle around the room before dropping beside Elton. He took a key from his pocket, glanced at Clint, and left the room.

Clint looked from the door to Elton. It was obvious from the swelling, bruised knot on his temple that he'd hit his head. Scratches ran down his right arm. A few glass shards shimmered between the torn flesh. His breathing was labored, although CLint couldn't hear the damp crackle, he could see the too quick rise and fall of his chest. Hopefully, they were turning on each other, imploding. That would be good news for Clint. He had already tagged Elton as the wild card, the less than loyal member of this little rag-tag team. The least comfortable with what was happening around him. Clint guessed he had stepped out and was struck down for it, and it looked like slim was turning right behind him. With any luck the whole group would self-destruct before any of their plans could come to a head.

The door flew open and Last stepped inside. He looked around for Barney before his eyes fell on Clint. He stepped over Elton and moved toward him. He had enough sense to stop before he came too close, "You think you've done something here? You think you've changed anything? This doesn't matter. I don't need him here."

Clint shrugged, "Well that's a relief."

Last watched him a moment and smiled, "Your job is the same."

"You mean the job I'm not doing?"

Last nodded, amused with himself, "He's dead already, your brother." Clint frowned, "There's a new explosive on the market. It has two liquid components. Nothing special there, but the amount that's necessary to obliterate something like a car is nearly microscopic. Two little drops that once they meet..." Last made a hushed boom and spread his hands apart, "Everything is obliterated, gone. Dust." Last paused, "Are you reading me okay? You look a little distracted."

"Go the fuck on."

"Well I gave some of the stuff to my lovely associate and she, bright girl that she is, found someone to place those components into sturdy capsules so small someone, say a hostage taker, could slip them into a drink and the drinker would never know it." Clint remembered the big dark-haired, walking muscle, coming in with water for them a couple hours ago. He had turned it down, but Barney had guzzled the glass in one gulp. "Once inside it's just a matter of time before the capsules break." He snapped his fingers to little effect, "We were planning on having him propped and ready at the speech this evening but now who knows where he'll be when his belly pops. Who he'll take with him." Last put his hand to his mouth for a second and frowned with mock concern before dropping it, "I hope he's not out looking for your partner. That could be some nasty collateral damage."

Time stopped. Clint lunged forward, pushing Last to the floor. He didn't give a damn about self-control or playing it smart. Fury propelled him forward. He grabbed his collar and bounced his head off the floor once, twice, and was just about to do it a third time when a hot, searing pain tore through his injured arm. The large thug was on him pushing him off of Last and back toward the wall. He started to pound on Clint but Last spoke up, "Enough!" Nick looked over his shoulder before looking back to Clint. He scoffed and let go of him with enough force to bounce him off the wall slightly. Clint watched him as he stood and walked over to Last helping him up from the floor.

"How much time does he have?" Clint asked as he rubbed his bloody nose across his arm.

Last, less than composed, straightened his clothes before glancing at his watch, and shrugged, "Enough to make things interesting."

"You should have killed me first."

Last winked, "Who says I haven't?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

 _This chapter ends in the middle of things, but I wanted to get more out this weekend and with re-writes (I can't seem to get this bit right) there was no time to do more. It's not a bad place to pause but it is something of a dead stop. I would rather give you more of the story this weekend, while I continue to work on it post posting, than to make you wait another week. Thanks for reading!  
_

 _*edited since original post._

"Ready to fly?" Natasha's voice was serious, she skipped the niceties to get straight to it.

"Now?" Bruce asked hoping he didn't sound too surprised.

"Now."

"What's going on?" He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Tony was working behind him and his attention was being pulled back and forth.

"Clint's..." _rogue, switched sides._ "Been taken. I think he's being used somehow. There's a possibility he'll try to assassinate the President of Venezuela."

"Assassinate the-" Tired of listening in from across the room, Tony took the phone from Bruce. "We can't leave you two alone for five seconds and people are being assassinated?"

"Its a hunch. I think Clint's being manipulated, controlled somehow."

Tony cupped the phone and looked at Bruce, "Same old, same old." He put the phone back to his ear, "So what? You need us to come down there and stage an intervention? A stop getting your brain taken over or else we're gonna have to take your bow away, send you on a long-term therapeutic vacation kinda thing?"

Natasha was not in the mood for Stark's flippant humor and it was evident in her voice, "We need to protect the president and pull Clint back in without causing a scene. There's also a couple people in the hospital that need to be watched. It's more than I can do alone."

"I coulda told you that before you left the tower."

"Tony-"

"We'll be down as soon as I get the jet warm."

"Thank you."

"Thank me when we're all back. Where are we meeting you?"

"Hospital de Clinicas Caracas if you get here soon enough. If not…."

"We'll be there. Which ward?"

"Maternity, and skip the suit until absolutely necessary. We're trying to keep this as low profile as possible."

"I can do low profile." He looked back at Banner with a reassuring nod, "I can do low profile." Bruce silently sat on the desk he had been leaning against.

"Sooner the better Stark."

"No problem Red. We'll be there quicker than you can thank me for Banner's stretchy pants." Nat hung up as abruptly as she had called and Tony walked over to Bruce, holding his phone out for him to take. "She secretly loves me."

Break

Back in the small, grey room Clint watched Elton's condition worsen. His breath hitched and gurgled beneath Clint's palm and his previously sculpted features were looking as soft and puffy as the repeatedly abused cartilage of his ears. The thought that he could be dealing with something contagious crossed his mind. After all, Last had suggested he had already done something to end his life. He could very well be staring at his own death.

His jaw clinched and he took a deep breath through his nose. It could just as well all be a lie. The capsules, his own death in the works, who knew if Last was just jerking his chain. Manipulating his emotions to throw him off balance or toy with him as punishment for Barney's escape. He had said he wasn't hired to kill them, but to make death a reprieve. He had to admit. From what he was seeing the man across from him was close to that point. Still Last's threat on his own life felt hollow, a scare tactics at best and more like a childish angry stomp of the foot.

He looked away from Elton, unable to continue to watch him suffer. His mind drifted. Barney was out there, searching for Nat. Unaware of what potentially lay in store for him. His anger and frustration began to climb. He thought of what Barney had said before he left. That he had hated him for, for what, for leaning on him? For needing him? For being the younger? That wasn't fair. He knew what he had meant, he understood. Barney had a responsibility shoved on him at too young an age. They had both had to survive, but Barney had had to survive and keep his little brother safe from what, more times than not, felt like the world. He knew he didn't have anything to apologize for, it was no more his fault that he had needed Barney than the very reason for that need, but he also knew that he had weighed his brother down more times than not. Natasha would probably never agree, but he did owe him. He owed him everything. Despite the past turmoil between them he could be there for Barney now. He could lean on him for once. Not that it mattered now. His brother was about to…no. He pushed the thought away again. There had to be a solution. He wasn't going to get to this point and lose him. First he had to find a way through what was before him. If it were true, if the capsules existed. They must have planned it so that they wouldn't break until Barney was in a useful spot. They wouldn't want them degrading when he was sitting in the next room. He could at least safely bet there was time. Despite Last's suggestion otherwise.

He looked around again for a way out though he had already taken in every corner of the small empty room. There was nothing but the way Barney had gone. The window above him opened to a several story drop, the locked door before him to his captors, and with his busted arm his options were severely limited. Especially now that it had been wrenched, pulled, and just recently smashed beneath Barney's boot. He might as well have thrown the last week of recovering from his shoulder surgery out the window. He could feel the pressure of swelling beneath the comms glove. It would no doubt be useless at this point. The nerves in his arm and hand were misfiring, going haywire, at the damage and swelling. His hand was nearly numb. He wouldn't be able to distinguish its subtle grips, taps, and vibrations. He rested his head back against the wall once again. He was getting way too familiar with the square of ceiling directly above his head.

Break

Back at the hospital Mara was watching the door to her room. Clint's partner had been gone for a while and though she felt sore and tender, she could walk. She would run if she had to. It seemed like a more tempting option than staying. They would find her out eventually. She wouldn't be safe here for long. She had seen the fire in Natasha's eyes. She would be finished the moment she found out her part in the Barton brother's abduction.

The only thing keeping her from going was the baby. Could she leave her? She would be taken care of. She would be in safe hands wouldn't she? It was a matter-of-fact question for her. Odd, maybe, but she didn't feel that deep connection to her child that was supposed to come over you after childbirth. She could blame her alternate selves, but it wasn't that. She, the person she knew herself to be, didn't feel anything beyond a nearly hypothetical sense of responsibility. It was suddenly as if she had spent most of her pregnancy not there, and maybe that was the case. It wouldn't be the first time she didn't feel what others expected of her simply because she hadn't been present enough in whatever given situation to care. It had all been a scam anyway, loving Barney, but she had hadn't she? So where did this disconnect from their child, her child, come from? It was survival wasn't it? Plain and simple. She couldn't care and survive.

She picked at the tape that covered the I.V. on her hand and looked back at the door. If she was going to go it needed to be soon.

She was going to hunt down Last and make him pay. He liked to say he had saved her, taking her from the facility, but he hadn't and they both knew it. He had played her and doomed her for his own motives. She saw it now and so did Bloody Mary. She dropped her feet off the edge of the bed and looked around the room. Her bag of belongings was dropped into a chair in the corner. She would have to put her stinking, bloody, old clothes back on. It was a small bother in the face of what was before her.

Break

Barney had found a safe spot to drop from the ceiling. It had been a short walk to the stairwell and several flights down but he was at what looked like a backdoor. Cautiously he opened it, peaking outside and back over his shoulder as he did. It was oddly quiet for this time of morning. He stepped out into the alley and began walking away from the main street and sidewalk. Clint hadn't needed to tell him to stick to the back alleys. He knew how to get around without being seen well enough.

He would head to the hotel first. Maybe Natasha would be hanging out there, waiting for a ransom call or some kind of communication from Clint. It was his best shot anyway. He had no way of knowing Natasha was at the hospital. No reason to think she and Mara would have any reason, or way to have bumped into each other. He had little doubt Mara, or Mary, was gone as was the baby. He hadn't stopped Clint from the dad talk. He couldn't bring himself to, but in his heart he doubted he would ever see either of them. He was still on the fence about how he would react to the woman who had played him for a fool for so long if he did.

There was no doubt in his mind how Natasha would react to him. He was ready for a broken nose the minute he explained the situation. And why not? He deserved it. At the moment he would have punched himself in the nose. He was ready for her wrath and he would take it. As long as when she was spent they could work on getting Clint out of the mess he had stuck him in.

Break

Back at the tower Tony and Bruce were boarding the jet Stark had designed to partially collapse and be stored within the tower as well as take off from the building's roof. Bruce was walking behind him slowly, watching the door behind them. He had tried to contact Steve without success. The Captain was spending more and more time on his own, or not with them at least. They had convinced him to carry a phone but he often didn't answer, or let the battery run out of its charge.

"We should try to call Rogers again." Bruce said as Tony stepped into the interior of the plane.

"We need him?" He looked down at Banner who had yet to take the first step up.

"It's just you and Natasha out there without him. Low profile remember. I can't go anywhere near the action and you shouldn't use the suit unless you have to."

Tony shrugged, "We don't have time to wait."

Bruce looked back over his shoulder before starting up the stairs.

Tony was already in the cockpit, starting the surprisingly low whirring engines and Bruce was just about to take the last step when a voice bellowed behind him. "Going somewhere without me?"

"Come on!" Bruce waved him over.

Steve ran over and was up the steps with two leaps, "What's going on?"

"Clint-" Before he could go on Tony yelled back from the front of the plane. "Close it up. Time to fly."

Bruce latched the door while Steve watched patiently. "You know Clint and Natasha went to South America to help his brother right?"

Steve nodded, "Yeah."

"It's turned into something else. I don't know the details but Clint's on his own. Natasha thinks he's going to go after the President, or try to at least."

"Go after the President? You mean kill him?"

"Yeah." Bruce crossed his arms.

Within minutes they were clear of New York airspace. Tony put the jet on autopilot and walked back, pushing up the arms of his long-sleeve t-shirt, "New rule. Those two aren't allowed to play with the neighbor kids unsupervised."

Steve looked back and forth between the two men, "Do we know anything else? How did this happen?'

Tony was the first to speak up, "No idea, but Barnacle has spawned." Steve looked at him questioning. Tony placed his hand on Banner's shoulder "Bruce gets to babysit at the hospital while we try to bring in Cupie."

Bruce looked from the floor up to Rogers, "Natasha asked us to keep a low profile."

Steve looked from Bruce to Tony, one eyebrow raised. He caught the look and went on the defensive, "What? I can keep a low profile!"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

It had taken a little sweet talk to get into the maternity ward without a relation, but sweet talking was never a challenge for Stark. It didn't hurt either that Rogers was standing beside him his calm, confident baby blues swaying the nurses as much as Stark's charm. It took less than ten minutes and the trio, that included Banner, were searching the quiet hospital wing for Natasha.

Phil had already left the hospital, finding a spot to sit and wait for Natasha's next communication or for the next shoe to drop. Whichever came first he would have to be out of the way, unseen by the other men.

Natasha had been going back and forth, spending time with the baby that Mara had yet to name, and to the mother herself. At the moment they were both sleeping and Nat had taken a breather in the hall, outside of the NIC unit when the three men walked up to her, announced by Stark's loud, "Red!"

She looked up, annoyed, it wasn't that there was a rule displayed about keeping the noise level low, but it seemed to be understood. Here there was peace and quiet and Stark had come in like a tug boat blowing it's fog horn. She stood up from the wall, "Boys." She said as a hello, and swirled her finger in a circle, "Sleeping babies and new mother's Stark. Not the kind of people you want to wake up." She smiled slightly and walked toward them, "Thanks for showing up."

"You should have brought us in from the start." Rogers seemed to be admonishing her, but when she looked into his eyes there was no sign of condemnation, only concern.

"Next time."

"Dear lord I hope there isn't a next time." Stark rocked on his heels. He looked around at the three who, each in their own way, stared back with disapproval, "In the sense that I don't want Barton to have more problems than as of late. That's all. I care. It's concern." He straightened his shirt unnecessarily.

"So, you said a couple people need watched after?" Banner rescued Tony from the awkward moment.

"Yeah." Natasha looked over her shoulder. "Barney's daughter and her mother down the hall, around the corner. Room twelve."

Steve looked over her shoulder, towards the door. "How are they?" In many ways, when it came to motherhood, he still carried the fears of his time. A time before so many of the risks and dangers of bearing children had been overcome or at least reduced. His own mother, he had been told, had never regained her health after having him. Hindsight proved there was more to her frail constitution, but for a time he had been convinced. It had left a pale stain of uncertainty that leached into his feelings about the entire endeavor.

She gestured to the door behind her, "The baby is small, early. They're still keeping a close watch on her. The mom though, Mara, seems to be doing okay. She's scared but she's tough."

"Have to be to deal with barnacles." Tony said to the side. Not that anyone would object. If Barney picked up on the fact that someone didn't like him from the start he would do everything he could to rub them the wrong way and he hadn't exactly been welcomed to the tower with warm cuddles. While he was there he gave as much disdain as he was given and it had left a less than poor impression upon the group. That and he had turned tail and ran the first opportunity that showed itself. No one knew then that he had a pregnant girlfriend counting on him to come home. Not that it would have made much difference in their opinion.

"So where is Barney?" Steve asked.

Natasha dropped her head a second, and took a breath, "They took him with Clint, and according to Mara, he was executed...by Clint."

"He-" Bruce started but Tony cut him off. "You're not really saying..." He looked between the two men then back to Natasha, "Feathers killed Barney?"

"Yes." She looked around the group. They looked back doubting, "Exactly. He wouldn't." She said, "That's why I think they're manipulating him somehow. I think Barney was a test. A trial run to see what they can make him do."

Steve hesitated but it had to be said. In his opinion the simplest answer was usually the right one. "How much do you trust Mara?"

Natasha looked up at him, frowning, "You think she's lying?" _That I wouldn't see it?_

"I'd believe that before I believe Cupie went Lizzie Borden." Tony threw in.

"She was panicked, terrified. She's still terrified that Clint's going to come here. She's in no condition to lie without me catching it." She looked back and forth, "She's believable." It was said in the face of her fading certainty. Maybe she had been too quick to dismiss Mara. Maybe all she had seen was a pregnant woman in distress. Could she have really missed something?

"You don't seem too sure about that." Steve stepped a little closer to her.

She struggled to justify her reasoning. "It makes sense. If they can make him kill Barney, they can make him kill anyone."

"But you don't know that he did, or that this has anything to do with the President, right?" Bruce asked.

"It does."

"But your certainty of that relies on what this woman has said?" He continued to push. It wasn't personal. There was no intentional attack on her. It was just an undeniable part of Banner's nature to question.

Tony literally stepped in, taking a place closer to Natasha and the center of the group, "The point is. Do _you_ believe Feathers has gone to the dark side and can we trust her?"

"No." _never trust anyone,_ "but it's more than coincidence that we're here, right now, while a national event has a huge crowd filling the streets. It's not a giant leap to connect the dots. What she says doesn't change that." Or the fact that they couldn't take the chance of not being on guard, even against Clint. They had to be prepared to take him down or things could get very ugly, very fast, and not for them. Her main concern was still for Clint. She clinched her jaw as she locked eyes with Bruce. He nodded, conceding.

"We need to talk to Mara." Steve looked down the hallway, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

"Room twelve." Natasha repeated. When they started to move, she added, "I still think we need to be at the speech. I know he'll be there."

Tony turned, "How could you know that Red?" He was feeling sympathetic, but despite his intent, the question came across as something more like condescension.

"Instincts." She folded her arms not in the least swayed or intimidated by their potential doubt.

"That's good enough reason for me." Steve spoke up before anyone else could comment, and not just because he trusted Natasha, but he was already convinced. The truth of Barney's death and Clint's possible hand in it didn't change the fact that someone had orchestrated events to bring them here, now. He believed she was right. It wasn't coincidence. The only questions for him was if Mara was lying, and why? Was she villain, victim, or something in between? To get his team home, all of them, he had to have more than what he was working off of currently.

He began to move forward and there was no hesitation from anyone else but Natasha who glanced over her shoulder toward the unseen baby that slept in the next room.

Down the hallway, around the corner, Mara was already leaving the maternity ward. Large metal doors slowly, silently closed behind her blocking her departure from view.

Break

Barney made his way to the hotel watching over his shoulder as he exited the alley. He rolled his shoulders, preparing for Natasha's assault without realizing what he was doing. He did however think about what he wanted to say to her. _"I was wrong about everything. I'm an ass, an idiot, a fool."_ Would he ask her to forgive him? Could he or would his pride stand in the way? Did he have any left? How the hell could it matter now!?

He crossed the lobby before the man at the desk noticed him, distracted by a check in. He took the stairs to avoid standing around and waiting for the elevator. Climbing two steps at a time he made it to the third floor in short time. He exited the stairwell slowly, cautiously, before walking down toward Clint and Natasha's room. It was an odd sensation to be back here after so much had changed. He thought he had little left before, but now there was nothing. He was scrambling to save Clint. To pull him from the rubble that was the ruins of his life, but once his brother was out, once Clint was safe, he would have nothing more to reach for. The loss of Mara and their child left him with no desire to try. Sure, he would go see the farm and what Clint had made of it. He'd sit and have a beer with him and roast the past over an open flame, but what then? He couldn't stay in the states. His criminal past had ended that. He doubted even Clint had enough pull to save him from prosecution.

The simple truth was he didn't want his old life and he didn't want to be alone in this new one. He didn't want to try. His mind wandered while his feet moved and he found himself staring at the closed door to Natasha and Clint's room. He hesitated a moment, dropping his head while his fist raised to the door, and knocked. There was no response and so he tried again. This time saying, "Natasha, It's me. It's Barney. You in there?" along with his knocks.

He heard footsteps come to the door and braced himself. The peephole darkened and the locks clicked, but when the door opened he was staring at the last person he expected to ever see again.

The grimace he didn't even realize he was wearing, dropped from his features. "Sunglasses?"

Phil Coulson looked up at Barney and said flatly, with all the substantial self control he possessed, "You're supposed to be dead."

Break

Nick grabbed Clint's left arm and pulled him to standing, "Move."

Clint didn't catch it, not that it mattered. He was staring straight ahead at Last who was leaning against the door frame, smiling at him. Last pointed at his own face, "How're the eyes?"

"You blocked your mouth." He said as he glanced back at Nick who had shoved him forward again.

Slowly he repeated the question, "Your. Eyes. Okay?" Now he was just being an ass.

Clint shrugged, "I guess if my aim is off we'll know who to blame."

Last pushed himself off the door and slowly walked toward him, "You don't want to miss."

"No? What are you gonna do? Kill me, my brother, innocent bystanders? Are you going to kill everyone I care about? You've already used up all your threats and the people I care about can kick your ass from here to next Tuesday. So I think I'll take my chances."

Last looked him up and down, a smug smile spread across his thin lips, "I heard the same thing about you and we see how that played out."

"Yeah, well don't pat yourself on the back too much for that one slick. Says more about me than you." About his compromised condition and how much he had needed a break when all of this started.

Last watched him a moment, seeing the thin line of exposed weariness, and took advantage, "Your partner is going to be at this little get together. " He shrugged. "Don't let her get too close or, well, bad things could happen."

"You touch her and-"

"And what? You are in no position to make threats either Barton. Now..." He stepped closer, pulling something from his inside jacket pocket, "This is yours." He displayed a handgun before handing it over to Nick who shoved it into Clint's waistband, at the middle of his back. With his hands tied in front it was unreachable. "There are no bullets of course, not until we get where we're going." Last continued.

Clint was already planning his move. He didn't need bullets to make the automatic at his waist as damaging as he chose. Even with one hand he could dismantle it sufficiently enough to have a sharp hand to hand weapon and a couple projectiles. It was just a matter of getting it loose from his waist and having the opportunity to dismantle it inconspicuously.

"We good then? Let's go." Last looked between the two men and walked out of the door without waiting for a response. Nick pushed Clint forward, toward the doorway, and stepped over the dying Elton. Spitting on the unconscious man as he did.

Clint couldn't help but notice the outer room was empty and the doors were open to the smaller offices that ran along the outer wall to his right and left. They all appeared empty. Wherever the other henchmen were it wasn't here. It gave a little more weight to Last's threat on Natasha. Barney had counted five in the group plus there was Mara, but with Elton out and Barney's ex more than likely offed or at least out of the game, that left only two to already be at the speech sight. It could be enough if they were skilled. Clint was still on the fence if they were a group of mercenaries with specific skill sets or just a bunch of lucky shits. Whatever the case he couldn't dismiss their potential threat.

It was almost certain if they had orders to take out Natasha if she came too close, they had similar orders for him. They would be watching and waiting for him to step out of line, to make the wrong move. He could slip into the crowd, disappear from even the sharpest eyes, but they weren't above using innocent bystanders to get what they wanted, or taking out Nat just to make a point. No, he would have to make them care, make it worth their while to not harm anyone else to get to him.

They stepped into the elevator. Clint glanced at Last who was on the tail end of saying something. He didn't know if it was for him or the thug beside him. Either way, he didn't care. He watched the doors close in front of them and took a deep breath.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Tony was the first to enter Mara's room. She had pulled the curtain around the bed, but had left her gown in a wad on the floor, visible from the doorway. "Mara?" He walked close to the curtain but didn't pull it away, half expecting her to be inside changing. Steve and Banner were right behind him and hesitated as well. "She in there?" Steve asked. Tony shrugged in response.

Natasha walked in, saw the trio staring at the curtain, the gown, and that Mara's belongings were missing, and ripped the curtain open, "She's gone." She said as she turned to the group.

They didn't need to speak, each went a different direction to look for her. They had no way of knowing if she had left of her own free will or if she had been taken. A split second evaluation told Nat she had probably left on her own, with her belongings gone, but she wouldn't assume it. Her first stop, however, was to check on the baby down the hall while Tony, Steve, and Bruce looked for Mara.

She had just checked with the nurses, and peeked into the nursery, when Phil's call came in.

Break

Phil had been sitting on the edge of the uncomfortable hotel chair, his phone clutched in his hands, as he listened to Barney telling him of the events that had lead him here. From beginning to end, starting with the package sent to his shop down to crawling through the vent and walking through the alleys. Barney talked until there was nothing left to say before finally asking, "Why did you think I was dead anyway?"

"We found Mara, Natasha's with her at the hospital, but uh, she told us Clint...that he-"

"Killed me!?" He started to pace. "Oh, she's a piece of work. A real piece of work."

He lifted his phone, "I'll tell Natasha what's going on. She won't get away with it."

"Good." He swallowed, suddenly questioning if he really meant it.

"Can you get back to where they're holding him?"

"Yeah, yeah of course. Let's go."

"Let me make this call." Phil stood and walked over to the window. His eyes finding the narrow alley across the street. "Hello." Natasha's voice came through calm and clear despite the haste of the moment.

He could hear her footsteps striking the hard hospital floor, "Barney's alive and he's with me. He can get us to Clint."

"Alive? That explains some things. Mara's gone. It looks like by choice."

"She's one of the group behind all of this. I'm sure it was by choice." Phil looked over his shoulder at Barney, "Mara's left the hospital." Barney wanted to ask questions, but Phil had turned his attention back to the phone and his face to the window.

"Where do I meet you?" Natasha asked. She had a hundred questions herself, but it wasn't time. Not for her. There was only one direction she wanted to focus. To get to Clint and bring him in safe. Everything, everyone else could wait for her wrath and questions. Even joy, if it could be found, was on hold until her partner was back.

"North corner of the hospital. We'll wait at the curb."

"No need, I'll be there. How is he?"

"Barney?"

"No."

Did he really need to ask, of course she was asking about Clint, "Sounds like he'll be okay once he's out of this. You called it. They're after the President, but Clint's not with them. They're threatening to bomb the crowd if he doesn't do what they want."

"Does Barney have any idea who they are?"

"No. He knows of one of them. An old semi-acquaintance. A woman that ran in the same circles anyway. Goes by the name of Kelly Conrad. Sounds like she may be your sprinter."

"Anyone else?"

"No, just general descriptions. Four men plus the woman, and apparently, Mara. They were hired by Cross." It was a fact that made the situation more grim than just a random band of criminals out to make a splash.

"Alright, I'm heading downstairs now."

"On our way." Phil looked up at Barney, "Ready?"

"Hell yeah."

"You want to stay at the hospital? See your baby? Natasha and I can handle this."

"You got people with her, right?" Phil nodded yes, "After." He grabbed the bow Clint had left on the small table. He wasn't sure that he could use it worth a shit, but he'd had some practice back in the day and he hadn't been a bad shot. He was no Hawkeye even then but he could make his mark more times than not. Maybe he could do some good.

Phil started to step in front of him, to stop him from taking Clint's cherished weapon, but his foot never finished the step. There was no denying the will that oozed from Barney's every pore and the determination in his eyes so like Clint's. Phil stepped aside as he wrapped the quiver over his head and walked toward the door.

Break

Nick was driving, Last was in the passenger seat, turned and facing Clint. "Almost there."

"What do you get out of this? What's Cross offering you anyway?"

Last rubbed something from his arm before looking back up at Clint, "You ever hear the name Lydia Last?"

"No."

"No, you wouldn't have. You would have known her as Lydia Cross." Last waited but Clint said nothing. He didn't know the name, but the connection between her and the man across from him and the man in prison was clear enough. "Doesn't matter. She was unremarkable. Kind, good, but just one of the crowd. I never understood what she saw in Cross. They seemed like an odd couple. He was so organized and controlled, so serious, and she was a flighty dreamer, bouncing from one passion to the next."

"She was your sister."

The sentimental grin faded from Last's lips and was replaced with his new ever-present hate tinged scowl, "And Cross' wife, yes, don't be slow."

He remembered something Cross had said to him, something about SHIELD taking everything from him, "She was hit when SHIELD brought him in?"

"Hit? She was murdered in her home. Left bleeding on her bedroom floor. I'm not surprised you didn't know about her. What's one life to a SHIELD agent?"

"I wasn't part of the team that brought him in. I wasn't..." He was going to say he wasn't there. That he had never even heard of Cross until he abducted him to get to Barney. Phil had kept the fact that he was following Barney after D.C., and that that had forked into following Cross, a CIA agent gone rogue. A man who dealt in terror and tinkered with lives like a child plays with little toy soldiers. But it didn't matter, not to this man, and not to anyone that was going suffer for her loss.

"I know where you were. I know all about you. Do you think it matters to me if you were there? You are part of the problem. You're one of the pieces. So, to answer your question. I'm not doing this for Cross. This is for me, for Liddy. No one had to stand trial for her death. No one was accused. The best answer we were given was that she was married to the wrong man. That she was at the wrong place at the wrong time, so sorry about that. She was in her home, in her bedroom! She had been asleep one minute and..."

"You deserve an answer, you deserve justice, but this isn't the way to do it. Not the president, the crowd. You stop this and I'll do whatever I can to get you some answers."

"Too little, too late Barton. I want them to pay."

"Fine. You want to get back at SHIELD? Take me out. Do it. You'll have your vengeance." He leaned forward, "This is just a game for Cross. Playing with people's lives. He's using you."

"No. This was my idea. Today is her birthday. Seems fitting don't you think?"

"So you what, you want to get attention? Make it mean something to a lot of people? Do it in front of the cameras if you want then. You're wanting to make a point, right? You'll make international news. The world will hear your story." He couldn't help but think it was an odd thing to be begging for your own death.

"You're not offering me anything I can't have if I want it Barton. I can do whatever I want with you and I choose this. Public hatred, a ruined legacy, massive devastation. I think anything less would be too easy. Anyway, No one would care about Lydia, or you and your brother's hand in her death. No one."

"How many Lydia's are going to be in that crowd? How many brothers and husbands, wives and sisters are you going to hurt? You can't do this. You'll become the thing you hate." He pleaded but Last said nothing and turned around, saying out of Clint's sight, "Too late." Clint leaned back in the seat, there was no reasoning with him. He was a man consumed, devoured by his hate.

Break

"You leaving?" Steve asked as he caught Natasha heading for an elevator, "I'll be back."

"What's going on?"

"Barney's alive and he can take me to where they're holding Clint."

"That's an amazing stroke of luck. What, they let him go and he just called you?" It seemed suspicious.

"Yes and no. Clint got him out, told him to call me as soon as he got to a phone." At least she had gathered as much.

"Okay. Let's go."

"No." She wanted him to come, but she and Phil could handle this. It had just been the three of them before Loki had come crashing into their lives and brought about the creation of the Avengers and their place in it. Not to mention she had to keep Phil's secret. "Stick with the plan, scout the perimeter and if you see Mara keep her with you or lock her up on the jet. She's one of them. I'll meet you at the speech."

"Be safe."

She was already walking away, one clip away from jogging, when she glanced over her shoulder. "Safe was back in New York Rogers."

It was a quick run down to the lobby and a shorter walk to the north side of the building. She didn't know if she wanted to hit Barney or hug him when she saw him. It was decided as soon as Phil's taxi pulled up to the curb just as she was getting to it. She jumped in the back of the car and looked over Phil at Barney, "Thought you were dead."

"So I hear."

"When this is done we're going to talk." She shifted her discreet necklace. The small arrow resting in the hollow of her neck, "but I'm glad you're here and...alive."

"Ah, shucks sweetcheeks I didn't know you cared."

"Don't make me change my mind."

He turned to look at her, the whole of his face in view, and she could see he had gotten a hit or two to the head that would've at least left him seeing stars if not worse. Reds and purples crawled out of his hairline and down his forehead, wrapping around his temple. It had been a day and he looked like last months left-overs after a long spin in the microwave. He winked and looked forward. They pulled away from the curb and started heading back to the part of town they had been circling earlier, where they could get a faint signal from Clint's glove.

It took a frustratingly short amount of time to get to the right area. They had been so close all along. "That's it! There!" Barney shouted as they drove by the building with the sad, displaced foliage marking it's entrance.

"You got to be kidding me." Phil said before asking the taxi driver to park around the block.

"We were here." Natasha chimed in, filling Barney in as she glanced his way.

"Damn." Barney looked out the window. If only they could have found them, busted in like some movie size heroes and saved the day.

"Let's go." Phil grabbed for the door, but hesitated a moment to say, "Natasha head in through the back with Barney. We'll meet up on, what floor? Barney, what floor?" He asked looking at the older Barton who had seemed to drift off, staring at the building.

Barney tried to remember the elevator numbers ticking by, "Twenty-three. I think."

Phil stared at him, but when he didn't change his answer or sound anymore certain he said, "Okay, stairwell at twenty-three."

Natasha nodded and gestured for Barney to follow her with a single finger.

Phil walked ahead of them down the sidewalk, straightening his day old suit as best he could.

He walked into the lobby and headed straight for the elevators, "Excuse me." One of the guards sitting up front said as he pushed the up button.

Phil turned, "Oh. Hi."

"Can I help you find someone?" The guard asked.

Phil grinned at him, "Doubt it."

"Who are you looking for?"

"Law office, upstairs..."

"Fifteenth floor." Lucky for Phil there was only one, in the entire building.

"Gracias." Phil stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifteenth floor. The door closed slowly, the guard watching him the entire time. It was a quick ride up to the fifteenth, where he got off and headed for the stairwell. He could hear Barney above him. Either Natasha had warned him not to speak or he had a moment of sense and was choosing not to, but he wasn't trying to hide his footfalls. One thud echoed after another down the nearly empty space.

When they stopped Phil picked up his pace and met the two at the landing for the twenty-third floor. "I'll clear it." Natasha said, sliding her hands down yesterdays sundress. Phil nodded and they switched spots as she left the stairwell and made her way down the seemingly empty hallway. The building seemed to be one bad year away from being abandoned all together it was so thinly occupied.

Phil listened but it remained quiet outside of the door. "What's your connection anyway?" Barney's voice broke through his concentration. "My connection?"

"To my brother. Or is it her? You here for him or for her?"

"Both. It's complicated." He didn't have time to explain everything right now.

Barney nodded, "Sure. You recruit him? Into SHIELD I mean."

Phil glanced at him. A little surprised by the unexpected question and insight, "Yeah. I did."

"You see something in him or was he just an easy gun?"

Phil turned more towards him, giving him the attention the question deserved, "I saw him for who he is and I wasn't about to throw that away just because those in charge couldn't."

"Gave him a last shot kinda thing?"

"Something like that."

Barney nodded, remembering what Clint had said about Phil coming along just when he was ready to give up, "Thanks."

"For-" Phil was getting ready to ask when Natasha opened the door, "Hallway's clear."

Together they left the stairwell, Barney in the lead until they came to the right office. Barney pointed at the door, Phil pointed at him and then the door. After a second he realized he was to knock while Phil and Natasha would stand on either side of the door, waiting.

After several knocks and no answer, he looked at Phil who motioned him back, and tested the doorknob. It opened with ease. After a brief pause to wait for a reaction that didn't come they slowly entered the office. It was just as Barney left it except all the back doors were open and there was a body on the floor in the room he, Clint, and Mara had shared. "Shit." He walked quickly forward, ignoring Natasha and Phil who seemed ready to hold him back. But they saw the body soon too and were right behind him.

It didn't take more than a few steps to see it wasn't Clint. Barney looked down at the still, puffy form that used to be Elton. "That's, uh, he's one of them." He was going by the tattoos and clothes more than his current appearance. Natasha felt for a pulse. When there was nothing she looked up at them and shook her head.

It was hard to tell what had happened to him. The only thing obvious was that they had moved and taken Clint with them. They had nothing.

Natasha turned in a circle in the small room, stopping to face the window, and the city beyond. Behind her Barney watched, realizing with a small amount of amazement, that if Clint had still been here she would be standing toe to toe with him right now. He wasn't sure what came over him when he said, "We'll find him."

She turned around, face as hard as he had ever seen it, and said, "I know." It was what condition they would find him in that concerned her. Time was ticking away. She walked past him and out of the room. Barney watched until his eyes landed on Phil who had been watching them from the doorway. "She loves me."

Phil walked in, "It's not about you. She's scared." He looked down at Elton. "We should let the authorities know about him."

"Sure."

"Let's go." Phil left the room without turning around.

"Yeah." He looked up at the ceiling vent before following Phil out of the room.

Break

Mary waited and watched. Tucked into a corner of buildings she attracted more attention than she wanted. She had taken a shower at the hospital, but her clothes were blood stained, torn, and smelled about as bad as she felt. Her hair, uncared for after her shower, had a life of its own, standing on end in wild waves. Her face was still mottled with bruises, her lip cut, and her belly had yet to retract. She was a walking disaster but she didn't care. She had one focus, one goal, Last, and if her gamble paid off he would be showing up any minute.

She had no way of knowing exactly when or where he would arrive with Clint, but this spot made the most sense. It was tucked away from the main crowd but was still close, and had enough traffic flow to conceal movement. She had already been waiting a while when Conrad's car stopped down the street, nearly out of view. She watched as Last exited and then pulled Clint from the back seat. He draped a jacket over his hands and they walked toward the sidewalk. The car pulled away.

She watched and waited until they began to walk before she followed. They were moving slow, like two old chums out for a walk. The only thing that spoiled the illusion was that one looked a little bruised and green around the collar while the other was in a crisp, clean suit, with not a hint of concern in the world.

The crowd was growing thick around her and it was harder to keep an eye on them, but just as she thought she was going to lose them they ducked into one of the old, empty pastel tinged shop buildings that lined the streets in this part of town.

She carefully walked up to the edge of the window and peeked through the rippled glass.

Inside Last pulled the gun from Clint's waistband and loaded it. Clint watched, "You can still stop this."

"This." Last pulled a watch from his pocket, "Is yours." He looped it around his good wrist just above where the plastic zip tie was cutting into his flesh.

"You shouldn't have."

Last tapped on the face of the watch, "This isn't really a watch."

"Figured that out slick. Much as you seem to like explosives, I'm guessin' it's a remote detonated kablooey bracelet, or you're just a real cheapskate on the parting gifts."

"I'll be watching and waiting. You don't do your job, you try to leave the crowd, if anyone you know gets too close to you this goes off."

"What's to stop me from grabbing you right now and blowing us both to kingdom come?"

Last leaned back and smiled, "Hope. You have too much hope to end it now. Anyway, think of all the people passing by."

Clint was silenced by the truth. He wouldn't risk taking anyone out with them and he did still believe there was a chance out of this. He dropped his head, looking at the watch, as Last's hands came into view, cutting the ties from his wrists. His stiff arm fell to his side as a thin shaft of light spread across the floor, focused on Last, and a silhouette filled the middle of the triangle. He turned to see Mara standing in the doorway.

He glanced back at Last. One look and he knew that he was not expecting her. Slowly he backed away from them both.

"Mary." Last finally spoke as she began to move into the room.

"Charlie." She swayed into the room. There was no fear, no apprehension.

"I saved you." Last seemed to be clawing for a reprieve.

"You believe that?" She looked at Clint. She was markedly different from the woman he had watched from across the room for the past twenty four hours. This was a hungry lioness circling her prey.

"Mara." Clint tested the water.

She looked him over dismissively, and turned to Last, her lips were out of view when she said, "You should have left me alone."

"Left you to rot in that prison hospital, or left you with his joke of a brother?"

"Take your pick." With that she dove at Last. Watching, Clint genuinely couldn't say if it was skill or luck but she managed to turn the gun away from all of them as Last fired a shot. The bullet cracked through the rotting ceiling above them sending a shower of particles down on the pair. She wrenched Last's wrist, forcing his fingers to release the gun, as her knee found his groin. He crumpled, and she circled behind him, hands around his head, ready to twist.

"Wait." Clint picked up the dropped gun while both watched him wearily. "Just wait a second."

Mary stayed quiet, waiting. Clint held the gun at his side and looked at Last, "Where are your people? What are their orders?"  
"It doesn't matter...none of it...this...they're going to..." Last said breathlessly, "collateral damage."

"How, where? Details Last or I'll let her twist."

"Enough questions." Mary had moved to keeping him in a choke-hold but was ready to move her hands back up to his head. She wasn't doing this for Clint. She wasn't saving him or anyone else. She was her for her own revenge and she didn't appreciate his "let her" remark.

"No!" Clint yelled, "What you said, about Barney, is it true?"

Last started to laugh and didn't stop. Clint could see Mary make her move but there was no time to stop her before Last fell to the floor with a broken neck. She looked at Clint, unafraid of the gun in his hand, waiting a moment for him to look at her before speaking, "He wasn't going to tell you anything."

"No shit but we could have used him! Who the hell are you anyway?"

"No one." She started to walk away, stepping over Last as she did.

"You leaving?"

She stopped a second, looking him over, before she walked back to Last, pulled the belt from his suit and walked back over to Clint. She took his injured arm and bent it across his abdomen, glancing up at him when he pulled away slightly. The look she gave him was reassuring and he relaxed and let her wrap the belt around, strapping the useless arm down. "Good luck. You'll need it." She said before turning to walk away.

"Mara." He called out to her as she was near the door. She turned, "The papers called me Bloody Mary. Think I'll use it." She smiled, "Tell Barney I'm sorry he got caught up in this and tell him...tell him she loved him very much." With that she walked out the door, letting it close as she left.

Clint watched her pass the window before he turned around and began to look through Last's pockets for the detonator to the bomb around his wrist, but aside from the normal contents there was nothing useful to be found.

He took his phone and scrolled through the messages. There were no names, just single digit numbers to identify the recipients. It looked like Last had talked to whomever was assigned the number nine a lot. The last message he sent was a simple, "En route." Clint typed in "Meet me at..." He looked out the window for a street sign or building name. Thankfully there was a fountain down the street surrounded by a roundabout. "...the Augustino Street fountain. Now."

He swallowed and waited for a response. After a moment the phone vibrated in the palm of his hand, "Sending seven."

Clint put the phone away and watched out the window a second before leaving and finding a spot closer to the fountain. He had just enough time to tuck into a small alley before Nick walked up to the fountain, frowning, and turned in a circle looking for Last.

Quickly Clint made his way behind him. He pushed the barrel of the gun into the small of Nick's back. "Don't move." Nick started to look over his shoulder, but he pushed the gun a little harder into the solid nub of spine already beneath the barrell. "Give me your gun."

"Don't have one." He said, his lips unseen, but pulled a couple blades from his pocket that he spun with more than a dash of showmanship before handing them to Clint.

"Amazing. That all you got?"

"That's it."

Clint waited and when he didn't remove anything else said,"Yeah? Good. Now move to the alley on your right." Together, Nick in front and Clint behind, they moved to the small alley that was shaded from the sun and tucked away from the crowd. "Turn around." Clint said, and Nick did as he was told.

"You're going to take me to your buddies. Got it?"

"Yeah." The walking muscle looked bored more than anything. His eyes trailed down to Clint's injured arm.

Clint noticed, "Don't even try."

Break

Natasha and Barney made it to the crowd forming around the speech sight. Phil had found a spot to be ready but out of view. The air around the place snapped and tingled with energy. People were waving flags and signs, chants were growing in numbers and intensity. It was a scene on the verge of chaos. It would only take a single tipping point to make the ecstatic joy a thing to be feared, a mob of racing hearts in mindless action.

Natasha was taking it all in. Details upon details were being assessed and noted, or cleared away all together. "Keep an eye out for anyone you recognize."

"No worries. I can't do anything but." Barney was looking everywhere.

Natasha glanced at him, "You good?"

"I'm fine."

"You should have gone to the hospital."

"And miss this? No way."

"She never named her. The baby. Mara never named her."

"No?"

"No."

Barney glanced down at her, shifted the weight of the bow and quiver on his back, and swallowed before looking back up and around, "Think I'll wait and see how this all turns out before I decide on any names. If you know what I mean?"

"We're getting through this. All of us." She glanced at the strap going across his chest and bit her tongue before she said anything she would regret.

"Yeah, I know. "

She scanned the crowd again, "How was he?"

She didn't need to explain, he knew who she was referring to. He couldn't bring himself to mention the injection, the knock on the head, the bad arm that was now in even worse shape, so he skipped to what he could face. "How long's he been putting off taking a break?"

"Too long. Even after..." _losing his mind to Loki, losing Phil and Fury, the trust of his colleagues, being left hanging on a mission during SHIELD's collapse, the public scrutiny..._ She stopped. To say anymore felt too close to betrayal. "He's not one to back down."

"Even from himself."

"Yeah."

"Always been a thing with him. I remember this flying shot from the trapeze he was determined to get right in just a couple days. It was a stupid ass move if you ask me but he tried and tried. Kept falling on the net in practice and busting up his neck and shoulders, but he wouldn't stop till he had it."

She could picture him gaining determination with every fall. They were so much alike in that. She had often pushed herself till her feet were as raw in one session as most dancers would be after a week. It was part of what singled her out from her peers and made her a shining Red Room candidate. "He get it?" She finally asked, still watching around them.

"Yeah he got it, but he was so sore the night he was gonna debut the act he couldn't do it. Couldn't even do his regular tricks right his neck and back were too stiff, all bruises and swollen muscles. The boss was pissed. He'd had to give refunds on an already slow night. Took it out of Clint's ass. Knocked him around so bad he almost missed the next show. Block-head ended up going out with more make-up on than the clowns."

"How old was he?"

"Geez, I don't know. Twelve?"

"That's a terrible story."

Barney shrugged "Is what it is. Kid doesn't know when to stop. Never did, never will." He caught sight of someone moving through the crowd, a head of dark wavy hair. "Shit." He said and pushed through the crowd that slowed his efforts to a crawl. "Mara!" He shouted without thinking. "Mary!" He tried again. She turned and their eyes met for a split-second before she was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

"Barney." Natasha grabbed his arm, "Where?"

He pointed, "There. She was right there."

"Stay with me." Natasha pushed forward.

Barney didn't say anything as Natasha continued through the crowd, but he stopped walking. The crowd was thick enough it only took seconds for a sea of people to be between them. "Sorry Sweetch..." He trailed off as he turned and headed in the direction he had seen Mara go.

"We're never going to catch up to her if we stay in this." She looked over her shoulder. "Barney!" She circled but he was gone. "Motherf..."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

Steve and Tony were making their way through the onslaught of people.

"So let me get this straight. Bar-nuts is alive, Mommy Dearest is a bad guy, there could be a bomb planted...anywhere, and Feathers may still try to take out El Presidente?" Tony looked around.

"I think that covers it." Steve was watching the crowd around them. Natasha had just checked in with him.

"Well, we're doing a great job so far." He turned his head a little to the side, "Jarvis, you catching anything?"

"Several armed individuals around the perimeter but I am unable to ascertain their intent. Probability suggests they are security, however one man is under the influence of narcotics on the twelfth floor of the building to your north. He is agitated and pacing."

"Bingo." Tony found north, "There. Should we go say hi?"

"And a how do you do." Steve rolled his shoulders. Beside him Tony watched blank-faced, "You really gotta work on getting with the times man. That was just..." He shook his head.

"What? People don't say that anymore?"

"Uhm, no."

"What should I have said?"

"I don't know. Let's kick his ass."

"I'm good."

Tony straightened as they walked faster forward, "Yes you are Spangles."

Break

Natasha couldn't find Barney and she didn't have time to keep walking in circles, distracted. She made her way closer to the grandstand set up for the presidents speech. It was strewn with patriotic decorations and surrounded by several story buildings with architectural niches at every level. It was a security nightmare and she questioned the experience of the person who had cleared its use. There was no way, even with their skill, the four of them could cover this place without being better organized.

She started walking around the outer edge of the area when she caught sight of him. Clint was standing twenty feet in front of her, stopped and watching her. There was a side of her that wanted to run to him. To wrap her arms around him, but he must have seen it because he shook his head no.

He looked at Nick, "Move wrong and I promise she will take you out quicker than you can wiggle your little finger." He put the gun at his waist and covered it with his t-shirt before he stepped to the right so he could display the watch around his left wrist, his hand in a fist. The crowd was moving steadily between them. The noise would drown out his words even if he could explain from here that the watch was a bomb that may or may not go off if she got too close, or that someone with a detonator could be watching. He settled for opening his fist, his fingers spreading out. It was all he needed to do.

Natasha swallowed, "Timer?"

He breathed with a little relief. It was just what he hoped she would ask. He nodded no slowly. He looked up and scratched above his eyebrow three times. _Three hostiles above and around._ She nodded that she understood.

"Barney?" He pointed to his eyes. _He find you?_

She nodded yes, then shrugged, and threw her hand over shoulder. G _one._

She could see the mix of emotions on his features from where she stood. His lips tightened and the man standing beside him squirmed. Clint grabbed the gun from his waist again and pushed it into the small of Nick's back. "Don't even try." He looked back to Natasha. She was so close but impossible to reach. "Barney." He mouthed, "Is carrying a..." Bomb was not a word you wanted to risk yelling in a crowd, so he settled for, "Cherry." and hoped she would get his meaning.

She did, but she shook her head no and pointed to her eyes. She hadn't seen one.

"In his stomach." Clint explained _,_ hoping it wouldn't throw her off too much. "Stay clear. Keep people away from him."

"I'm not leaving you."

"Focus." He looked away a second, apologetic.

She watched him. He was right, but he didn't know that she had called in the rest of the team. She could follow him and Tony could search for Barney. It was no longer on them alone to keep everyone safe and crawl out of this. The chance to go unseen was more than over, it was irrelevant. She put her finger to her comm, making sure to keep her mouth in view of Clint, "Tony. Time to put on the suit. Barney is on the run with an explosive. Think you can find him and isolate him?"

"About time! I'm on it."

"I'm with Clint. When you have Barney taken care of we'll need you. He's strapped too."

"Guess these people don't think it's a party without fireworks. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Thanks." She lowered her hand and watched Clint watching her. She could see he was coming to a decision. He looked around before looking back to her. "We have to go."

"Okay."

"No, us. Not you."

"Clint."

"They're watching. I have to move." In front of him Nick smiled at Natasha and winked.

She looked away from him to Clint, unfazed. "What's your plan?"

"Can't say. Feeling a little in the spotlight here. Just, uh, do me a favor." She nodded, "Do it. If it comes to it promise me you will."

She clinched her jaw. He was asking her to take him out before the bomb went off if it came to it. One shot would scare away the crowd and would stop them from using him. She nodded in agreement as her eyes burned.

He grinned, she couldn't stop him from saying the word she hated this time, "I love ya Romanoff. Always have, always will." He didn't wait for a reaction as he pushed Nick forward, "Time to meet the President genius. Oh." He stopped, "Their ringleaders dead." He looked up and around again for effect as Nick glanced over his shoulder at him, "And if you see Mara or Mary, whatever she calls herself, tell her I said thanks. She's scary as hell, but thanks."

"Clint."

He had been watching her and stopped as she stumbled through her words, "I...I'll see you soon."

He dropped his head, and looked back up at her, nodding. "I know."

With that he and Nick disappeared in the crowd. Natasha pushed on her comm piece as she moved through the crowd at a distance behind them. More determined than ever to succeed. "Rogers. You find anyone yet?"

There was no response for a minute, then, "Yes." It was a whisper.

She listened and waited a minute as their was a commotion on his side, and then, "One down." There was a second's pause, "He wasn't tracking Clint. Rifles aimed at the podium."

"Shit." Someone was still out there, watching and waiting, finger at the ready on Clint. Behind her sirens were growing close. Someone had found Last's body. "I'm shadowing Clint. Can you restrain your guy and keep searching?"

"Yeah."

"Tony?"

"In the air Red. Looks like something's happening your way." He referred to the couple police cars pushing through the crowds behind her, a street away from her current location. "Seems to be. Any sign of Barney?" She dismissed them as unrelated.

"Negative."

"Okay." They had to be down to two bad guys at most. Two that would be scrambling. Ahead of her she caught sight of Clint. He wasn't trying to lose her. She realized he was pacing himself so that she wasn't close by any means but she could see him. He was working a plan..

Break

Kelly Conrad was watching through her scope. From where she was perched she could see everything. Rogers take-down of Alvin was visible through the window of the building across from her. Below, through her scope she watched Clint pushing Nick forward, gun to his back. Last was nowhere to be seen and emergency vehicles were gathering a street over. It seemed clear now that his last text had been from the Barton currently parading Nick through the crowd. The red-head was ghosting them. Of least concern was the couple who had disappeared altogether, Mary and Barney.

The Ironman had flown off, out of view beyond the rooftops, and she had a feeling it was time to make the only move she had left if the gig was up, cut the loose ends. She looked back through the scope as her finger found the rifle's trigger. She lifted it to the building across from her, found Alvin's head, and fired. She quickly went back to the crowd. The silenced shot hadn't been heard over the noise of the crowd. She found Nick, his head moved in and out of her scope. She found her spot and fired. Nick fell like a rock and the crowd around Clint scattered. He looked up and seemed to find her immediately.

Quickly she dismantled her rifle and cleaned up her roost. She slid back and out of the room. Outside the crowd was growing panicked. She could use the chaos to slip out unnoticed.

She may be on the run, all their plans seeming to be shot to hell, but their ultimate goal was going to happen anyway. The watch around Clint's wrist was a detonator, not the bomb. If he got too close to the podium, the bomb within would be triggered. He was already feet away and the crowd was pushing him ever closer.

Break

"Natasha. A sniper just took out my guy." Steve spoke into his comm.

Ahead of her people were scattering, a few screamed as they ran. She pushed forward. The crowd cleared and she could see Nick on the ground, blood pooling around his head, as Clint stooped beside him. He looked up, "Stay back." He put his good hand up, the gun still in it, but clearly not aimed at her.

"They're turning on each other." She said as if he hadn't already realized.

"I got eyes on Barney." Tony chirped in her ear. She looked back at Clint, "We have Barney." She breathed a hesitant sigh of relief just as a loud explosion blocks away vibrated through the square. Sending the rest of the crowd who had remained calm so far into a panic. "Shit!" Tony's voice came through the comm. "Tony!" She pushed the comm further into her ear.

"We, uhm, we got a situation over here."

Clint was standing and watching her. She met his eyes, shaking her head slowly.

"I'm going in." Tony said before going silent.

She looked back up at Clint, he swallowed and didn't move, didn't blink. He was waiting.

She knew he wanted to run, wanted to check on his brother. It's what he would have done in most any other scenario, but he was being held back by one monstrous possibility. She glanced at the watch, "Think you can take that off?"

"Don't know and I'm not in a hurry to find out the hard way." He slowly lowered himself down to the ground, beside Nick.

"We have a lot of, a lot of people over here." All the humor was out of Tony's voice.

"Shit." Natasha turned away from Clint. "Barney?"

"I don't know. I thought..." There was a rustling on his end and he stopped talking for a minute. When he did come back it was just to say, "I'll let you know."

"Barney?" Clint asked as soon as she turned back around.

She took one step toward him, but stopped herself, and sat on the ground as well. "It's not for sure."

He watched her and started shaking his head, "Ah, fuck."

"Clint, I'm-"

"Get the stragglers out of here Nat. Clear it." People swirled around them and sirens drew close. In a matter of minutes they would be surrounded. "We lost Nat. Played right into their hand."

"It's not over."

"You have Rogers?" Clint looked around while he spoke, but brought his focus back to her when he had finished.

"He's in another building, he had one of them, but-"

"They took him out too. Shit." He rubbed his hand through his hair.

"Yeah." She wanted to take a step closer, and her body swayed from fighting it.

"No loose ends."

"Clint." She lowered to nearly sitting on her heels.

"It's a sure thing."

"I don't understand."

"He didn't take me out because I'm not getting out of this. There's no way out."

"I'll get Tony over here. He'll find a way to get it off."

"He should stay where he is. He's needed there."

"Here, he's needed here."

"No. Go Nat." He looked up, catching sight of the broken window several stories up and realized it was where the other sniper had been. The one taken out by his own. He looked over his shoulder, he had been targeting the podium, the President. "Dominoes."

"What?" Natasha asked, confused.

"The President. They had someone set up to take the shot. They just wanted me standing there, gun in my hand, when they shot him. There was never a way out...the bomb...the bomb's just...just for collateral damage..."

"Clint." He wasn't looking at her. He was lost in thought. Without warning he began to take the watch from his wrist, pulling at the strap with his teeth. She stood, watching for a moment before going to him, helping him pull the cheap plastic away. He looked up, "No Nat." She continued trying until he pulled his arm away and grabbed her wrist, "Get them away from here."

She looked at him, searching his eyes. "I won't leave you behind."

"Then help me. They're after as much destruction as possible. What they did to Barn...it was for show. It's just to take out as many people as they can. This isn't the explosive. It's the trigger."

She flicked the last tab through the its hole and stood. She gave him a look and began yelling at the people who remained, "Run! Bomb!" It only took a couple repeats to clear the area. Everyone was running away but one woman remained, watching, crouched in the shadows.

Break

Conrad reached into her pocket, searching for a key she wouldn't find. A key that had been lifted by Elton and taken from him by Alvin. A key that was now in Steve's hands. The key to the podium and the bomb within. Alvin had been on his own for thirty minutes earlier. It was just enough time to get to the podium and mess with her work. It had to be, it should have gone off by now as close as Barton was. She slipped farther into hiding and pulled the rifle from her bag and began to reassemble it.

When she looked back up Clint was standing in front of her, "Who's the last person to run when someone says bomb?"

"Beats me." Slowly she stood, sliding up the wall.

"The one person who knows it's not going to go off." He raised the gun, "Move."

Natasha walked up beside him and Conrad sneered at the pair as the sound of multiple boots filled the near empty square and the reflection of a dozen or more heavily armed police officers bounced off every window. Natasha and Clint raised their arms at the same time. Conrad slowly leaned down, slipping her hand around the rifle, she aimed clumsily for the podium and compressed the trigger.

Behind them the podium exploded knocking Natasha, Clint, Conrad, and the dozens of officers forward.

Break

Tony had been helping lift debris a few blocks over when he heard the explosion. "Red." He tried again, "Red."

Tony switched to Steve "Cap, you good?"

Steve coughed. He had just come to the doorway of the building where he had left Alvin when the bomb went off. He had been blown back inside, but with little damage done. He stood and looked himself over, "yeah, good." He walked out into the light and looked around at the square, "We're going to need a hand over here."

"On my way."

Steve ran over to check the multiple policemen who were on the ground. Most had been far enough away to only suffer minor injuries from the blast wave and were starting to stand.

"Nat!" He looked in the direction of Clint's voice and saw the archer rolling an unconscious Natasha over. He ran to them.

Clint looked up at him, "She hit the wall. Take her." He looked back down the gap in the buildings where Conrad had been crouched. He stood slowly, leaning on the wall for support before nodding at Steve and stumbling down the alley. "Clint!" Steve yelled after him but it was pointless. Clint disappeared in the shadows as Natasha came around. She sat up, rubbed her hand across her temple where a gash marred her forehead, a crimson ribbon flowed down to her ear. She blinked at Steve before looking for her partner and Conrad. Steve put his hand on her shoulder, "I'll go."

She looked around the devastated square and the men trying to stand, "I have to..." She tried to stand but the world went topsy-turvy and she had to slide back to the ground a minute.

"Easy." Steve looked in the direction Clint had gone and started to stand, but Natasha grabbed his wrist.

"No, they need you." She gestured to the police behind him.

"Tony's on his way." With that he took off in a run after Clint.

Break

Phil had seen everything and was already running after Conrad. She slid through the crowd like a snake, slithering unseen in the midst of the confusion and panic. He had looked her up after Barney had mentioned knowing of her. Sure enough she had a file. Kelly Conrad, a.k.a. Bomsbshell, started as a street performer, a juggler that used homemade smoke bombs and fireworks to add flair to her performance. Somewhere along the way she realized her skills could be used in other, less entertaining venues. It started with a little prank here, a little robbery there, but before long she was moving on to jobs with more casualties and larger consequences.

"Bombshell!" Phil yelled, readying himself.

Ahead of him the platinum blonde stopped and turned slowly. She smiled. "I know you?"

"You're about to." Phil raised his gun, "Don't move."

She raised her eyebrows but didn't bother to respond. She was looking over Phil's shoulder, smiling. He didn't bother to turn around. It could be a trick to try and distract him and he wasn't about to fall for it. He moved forward, pulling a pair of collapsible SHIELD cuffs from his belt.

She continued to watch over his shoulder. Once he was within reach of her she whispered to him, "He seems surprised to see you." He cuffed her and looked up and over his shoulder. Clint was walking towards him, "Coulson?"

Phil glanced at Conrad before looking back to Clint, "Barton."

"What are..." There was too much to ask, he could say nothing beyond, "Ah you're a sight for damn sore eyes." and pulled him in for a hug, "It's been too long man." He looked up, into Conrad's smiling face and came back to the moment, pulling away from the hug. "You taking her in?"

"Yeah."

"You have a place to put her then."

"A little place. It's small and...complicated."

Clint nodded, "Good. She's it. The only one left."

"She's not going anywhere."

Clint nodded again and watched him but could say nothing. His exhaustion was catching up to him and his mind reeled. All he could think was the last time Phil had seen him he was a man possessed, not in control of his own mind or actions. He had played a part in his death, his current state of vitality aside. It shamed him in no small measure and would for as long as he lived. It was a feeling only two people had ever heard him express.

He felt drained as he stared at the one person, other than his partner, he trusted to lean on. His brother by deed, by loyalty, by trust was alive. Somehow snatched back from the reaper while his brother by blood, by a childhood shared was gone. He was at once relieved of, and compressed by grief. It was too much to wrap his head around. Too much to feel, to process, and so he stared at Coulson in silence a beat too long.

"We have to go. I'm sorry..." Phil finally said.

"Yeah."

"Take it easy."

"Sure."

"I'm serious. You've got a little girl counting on you now."

He had forgotten in the chaos around them that there was still a baby. Barney was gone, Mara was gone, but there was still a child. His niece. He swallowed, "Holy shit."

Behind them, held in Phil's grasp Conrad squirmed. If she wanted she could take Phil's feet out from under him, smack his windpipe, and take down Clint with a single shot from Coulson's weapon, but she was waiting, biding her time until it would be a little easier than that. Her squirming was just for show.

"I can't uh, I can't...I mean Barney, he may be okay. He may come back."

Phil nodded. Clint was in shock and denial. It was to be expected. "I have to go."

"Yeah, yeah okay." He watched Phil walk away, "Wait." Phil turned, Conrad in front of him, "When all this is settled, you come and find us." The I need you was apparent.

"I will. You have my word." He pushed Conrad forward and walked, Clint watched as he was swallowed up by the city, out of sight. Clint stood, still as a statue, life moved around him unseen. He had to collect himself. He had to get back to the square, back to Natasha. He would need to help where he could.

A hand on his shoulder sent him turning around, grabbing the wrist and twisting, while he was about to kick his assailants feet out from under him. But the face that met him was a surprised Rogers, "Sorry. I was saying your name. I..." _hadn't been thinking_.

Clint let go of his wrist, "Sorry about the wrist."

His body was already mending the slight tear. "You lose him?"

"Her." Clint looked over his shoulder, "Yeah. She's gone."

"Darn." Steve looked around them. "You alright?"

"Fine. I'm fine. Let's go."

They walked back to Nat, who was up and helping the paramedics and Tony with the injured. She looked over at the pair. "You get her?"

Steve shook his head as Clint said, "No." He looked around, "You got this handled. I'm going over to the other..." he took a breath, "sight."

Natasha took his arm, "Don't" He stopped and looked at her, "...go without me." She added. He nodded and together they walked slowly the several blocks over, where another explosion had occurred but here the damage was more grim.

"There's nothing left Clint." She was trying to get him to stop, but he wouldn't look at her. He was taking in the damage. The loss. There had been a crowd here, and the buildings were closer. It had been a deathtrap for anyone within the blast radius. Emergency workers were still searching the buildings that had been damaged and a few injured were still on the ground. He stopped in his tracks as something caught his eye. He walked away from Natasha a few feet, leaned down, and when he stood he was holding his quiver, what was left of it. She crossed the gap between them. He looked at her questioning. She nodded slightly, "He had it."

Clint dropped his head, swallowed, "We should go. I can't help and we're in the way here." He cupped the remnant in his hand and started to walk away. She looked around a second before following him.

When they made it back to the square, back to Steve and Tony, Clint made a straight line to Steve. "Where is he?"

"Who?"

"The kid. The one you found. Where is he?"

"In there." Steve pointed to the building he had exited. He brought Alvin's body downstairs and propped him against a side wall. "But he's gone. Barton he's dead." Clint didn't care and walked to the building anyway. Steve looked at Natasha, who returned his glance before following Clint. The archer entered the building and found Alvin where Rogers had left him. He grabbed the dead man's collar and pulled him forward, slamming him back against the wall. It was a futile attempt at retribution. Clint sank to the floor beside him, where small bits of rubble were strewn across the floor.

Natasha moved in close and waited. He looked at her but there was nothing to say. She scooted closer to him and put her hand on his leg, still waiting. He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. "Ah, damn it." He dropped his head down, nearly between his knees, his good hand cupped the back of his head. When he was silent too long, when it was clear he needed an interruption from the thoughts that were running laps through his mind, she raised up on her knees and wrapped her self around him. She knew how much he could take, she knew the massiveness of what he could handle, and she knew when he needed this. No man was an island. No one could handle this alone.

Steve came to the doorway a moment but left upon seeing the pair. He wouldn't intrude.

Clint was taking deep steady breaths beneath her, collecting himself. He was crushed, demolished. There was no pretending otherwise. It was too much and he finally let go. He didn't make a sound as hot, molten tears fell upon the dusty floor. He had fought and he had failed.

They stayed like that until he was ready to move. Natasha didn't push. She didn't try to speak and make him focus on her lips, or make him move. She let him be and when he was ready they walked outside of the building. The group helping with clean up had shifted from the first responders to beat cops, detectives, and federal agents. Soon the brass and politicians would be down here. The news vans were already parked around the block and journalists pushed at the ropes blocking off the square.

Tony and Steve were helping search the rubble back where Barney had been. There was a large part of Clint that wanted to stay, to help, but Nat urged him to go to the hospital. To leave it be. There was nothing for him to do here and he didn't have the fight for once to do anything but agree.

They slid into the taxi and made their way to the hospital. Clint was silent the entire ride, watching out the window. He was looking at the city like they had just left the airport. Strangers in a strange land. Nat watched for a minute but turned away. Taking in the view out the opposite window. The city was in a panic. There were sirens wailing still, fewer now, but a present sound all the same. The crowd had dispersed, but pockets of people were forming huddled groups.

"I'm sorry for all of it Nat." Clint's voice came quietly from beside her. He was speaking lower than he probably intended and she had to fill in the words that were lost to the drivers radio and engine noise. He wasn't looking at her, wasn't giving her a chance to respond. She wondered what he was apologizing for. She squeezed his leg and waited for him to turn. When he did she simply said, "None of this is on you."

"This…" He gestured out the window over her shoulder, "Is only me. I'm the only one left standing."

"Since when does surviving make you guilty of anything? You didn't do this." She took his hand.

He wanted to add that he had failed to stop it, which was an equal condemnation in his book, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. "It's all gonna change."

"Is it?" He had taken a turn and she wasn't following.

"Barney's kid...I can't take her to the tower. I can't keep..." He grew silent and she waited for him to continue. "You should come with me."

"Come with you? Where?"

"To Iowa. Let's see how not watching our backs every five seconds goes."

"You want me to move to Iowa with you?"

"Yeah."

"And settle down, be the little woman?" She hadn't meant to mock. It was a knee-jerk reaction to his suggestion.

"It's not like that Nat. Stay my partner, my friend, my w-"

She put her hand up before he could finish. "Don't say something you'll regret Hawkeye."

He moved her hand away, "Then don't make me regret it."

"I can't. I'm sorry. I can't live that life..."

He nodded, "I know. I get it. I do." He took a deep breath and looked back out the window as they pulled up to the hospital entrance. He opened the door and looked over his shoulder at her before stepping out of the car. He took a deep breath, "Here goes everything."

Together they rode the elevator up to the maternity ward. She tapped his arm, "You should get checked."

"Me? You're the one with a tennis ball on your head."

She rubbed the solid lump on her head from bouncing off the wall, and winced as her fingers found the healing gash on its zenith, and shrugged. "I still look better than you."

"You always do, _Sweet-cheeks_."

"I'm serious. You look like shit. Still." She looked him over, "And how the hell did you get a belt wrapped around yourself?"

"Mara." The elevator doors pinged open and they walked out into a world that was a million miles from the destruction they had just come from. It was quiet here, but beyond that there was pervading feeling of peace. The very walls seemed to hum with a lullaby. Clint stopped in his tracks.

"Clint?" Nat turned to look at him.

He swallowed, "Following you."

She nodded and walked forward, back to where Bruce was waiting. "Banner." She called as she walked around the corner, catching sight of him standing by the door into the NICU. He looked up, "Hey." He saw Clint behind her, "Barton, Man is it good to see you!" He reached out and clasped Clint's good shoulder. Banner, usually reserved, was more animated by the force of sheer joy and relief.

"How is she?" Natasha asked.

"Tough. She's a fighter." He looked at Clint who was staring at the door, before speaking to Natasha, "Should we go in?"

She nodded. Bruce opened the door to a room set up with gowns, masks, and booties for family coming in to see the babies. A nurse exited the main room on seeing them enter. "I'm sorry, family only and only one at a time."

Bruce and Natasha both looked to Clint who was watching the nurse, "I'm her family."

She nodded, "Gown and mask. Then come in."

He did as she said and started in behind her. The NICU was small, unlike the normal nursery that had several rows of cribs, this nursery held only four beds, beds with lights and hoods and monitors, and a set up that closer resembled a bird incubator than crib. Clint swallowed as he followed the nurse back to one of two beds in use.

Slowly he approached. The name tag that simply said Barton in large, bold print was the first thing to catch his eye. The little girl within was so small, so lost within all the equipment meant to save her life. He looked at the nurse, "Thank you." She nodded and said something, her mask blocking her lips. He looked back at the baby, "I have to read lips. I'm sorry."

She dropped her mask and waited for him to look back up, "She's improved. She's very strong."

He smiled thinly and looked back into the crib, a warm light surrounded the sleeping newborn. Her small fingers wrapped around each other. "She's amazing."

The nurse waited again until he looked at her, "Are you her father?"

"I'm as close as she's got." When she looked confused, he added, "Uncle. Her parents are...they're gone."

She nodded. The entire maternity ward staff knew of Mara's swift departure. "You need to be looked at." She smiled at him reassuringly, "Then come back and hold her. She needs to be held, to feel you near. It helps."

"I will." He looked back at the crib. "Can I have a minute?"

She nodded and walked away. Clint watched his niece sleeping. A tiny tube covered her mouth, and a small heart monitor pad shimmered as it rose and fell with her breathing. The diaper that swathed her seemed to cover the entire lower half of her body, and the bonnet on her head had been rolled to nearly half its original size. Clint looked at her little toes, "We're it. You and me kid." He rubbed his hand along his screaming arm that was still strapped around his abdomen by Last's belt, and leaned his forehead against the glass. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know what to do." He closed his eyes and the world went sideways. He waited a minute to try and open them and another to try and push away from the glass. When he did the nurse was already by his side. He looked at her, "I'm gonna go..." He saw a chair in the corner, "..sit there." He stumbled over to it and dropped.

The drugs, the hit to the head, the explosion, the losses, and discoveries were all falling on him with the weight of a bus. He felt like he could sleep for days if he closed his eyes again. The nurse was leaning in front of him, checking his pulse. She was saying something but he didn't catch it. He didn't care. He looked back up at the glowing incubator, and the name tag that said nothing more than Barton. "Edith. Her name's Edith." He said before leaning back in the chair and giving in to the approaching abyss.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

(Epilogue)

Three months later:

Dusk was settling on the open farmland, a mist was rising up and over the scattered treeline. A sharp red glow caressed the edge of the horizon as clouds once glowing and bright were now heavy, dark masses that inched toward the dying light. Stars twinkled to life high above as a fire burned below in the middle of a field just away from a farmhouse that sat a dark sentinel over meadows and a barn where a single light shone above a large crooked door. Fireflies danced above tall grass as the head lights of a single car broke the peace of the encroaching night, cutting through the thin evening mist.

The car pulled up to the house and stopped, lights off, all was dark until the door opened and the interior light outlined a woman's figure. She leaned into the car before closing the door and walking toward the fire and the figure seated there.

"Drink?" Clint raised a just opened bottle above his head as Natasha approached from behind. She took a sip while walking in front of him, "Apple juice?"

Clint shrugged while standing to give her a welcoming hug, "Cider."

"It's good." She raised the bags in her hand, "I come bearing gifts."

He smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "Good thing."

"Or what?"

"You kidding? It'd be outta here." He patted her back and kissed her cheek as he pulled away. Both hands back in working order, "Long time no see. Good flight over?"

When he let go she shrugged, "It was fine. Short. How have you been?" She took a seat in one of the chairs circling the fire pit. Clint sat back down as well, a small video baby monitor with a soundbar bouncing up and down slightly, rested on the arm of his chair. He didn't want to talk about the first few weeks here, not yet. About the struggle to recuperate from everything that had happened while a new little life relied on him. The mending of things physical and all the things that would take much longer to heal. Nor was he ready to mention the room upstairs that was already baby girl pink, one wall covered in lamb patterned wallpaper and decorated by his mother before she passed in expectation or hopes of a baby that would never arrive. It was a room he had avoided, a room he had never had the heart to touch. That was until now when he refurbished it for the little girl who shared his mother's name, leaving the lamb wallpaper she had lovingly applied on a single wall. The past few months had been an emotional roller coaster to say the least. One he was glad no one was there to witness besides little Edith who smiled oblivious to it all. He took a sip of his drink before answering simply, "Good. How's the gang?"

The team, with the exception of Clint, had stayed in Caracas to help with the clean-up. Stark had put his considerable finances to use where he could, where it would help. There was no public outrage toward Hawkeye or the Avengers. The widespread disdain, the ruination of a hero, Last had tried to ignite never grew louder than a low rumbling from those who could not be solaced. Not that Clint would blame anyone who railed against him or felt he was responsible for the loss and destruction. If you asked him, he was to blame. Their wrath would be well placed. It had been an unforgivable disaster. One he had failed to prevent. "Missing one member."

"Nat."

"I know Clint. You can't. I'm only saying you're missed."

"So are you." They stared at each other a minute before Clint shifted in his seat, "So what's in the bags?"

She smiled, "First." and pulled a small box from her pocket, "These are for you."

"Is that..." He took the box and opened it. The outer receiver of his ear implants were sitting nestled within. "Oh, they are getting some love for this. They're good then? They got it?"

"One way to find out." She smiled.

He took them and carefully snapped each one into place. The sound of crickets singing, and the fire crackling rushed in like water from a breaking dam, washing away the oppressive tinnitus that plagued him otherwise. It sent his blood pressure up, his heart racing for an instant, but in the most glorious and welcomed way. He closed his eyes and just listened.

Natasha watched him a minute, reluctant to break into his reverie, before asking, "I take it they're working."

Clint looked at her, "Like a dream." Taking a deep breath, he smiled and slapped his hands together. "What else you got?"

"Geez, A few months in the middle of nowhere and you get greedy."

His smile widened. He couldn't seem to stop. Her presence was having that effect on him, "What can I say. I got needs."

She slid her hand into one of the bags and pulled out a small cooler, "From Kevin."

He took it, opened it, and removed a vacuum sealed steak, "Aw. He sent meat."

"Apparently it's the best steak he could find. Said if he couldn't get you to come to the meal, he would send it to you. Oh, and something about stop avoiding the rematch already...I don't know." Clint nodded knowingly.

She reached back into the bag, "This is from Rogers." She handed over a small, soft square wrapped in paper. Clint began to slowly unwrap the gift. He sat still for a minute staring at the contents of the package before lifting a small patchwork blanket. "A quilt and..." he unfolded it, "a quilt."

"It looks hand-stitched, old." Natasha examined it a little closer. "Really old."

"You gotta give him a hard time for this. Has he been walking around with his blankie all these years?" He laughed heartily at the thought as he gently folded the time-softened fabric back into a neat square. More appreciative of the gift than he let on.

Natasha smiled, "No. Not happening." She peeked in the bag and paused before wrapping her hand around a collapsible bow and quiver and handed them over, "From Tony and Banner."

He took them slowly, looking over the highly designed tools of his trade solemnly. Turning the bow in his hand but not opening it, not testing it, as she would have expected.

"How's the arm?" She asked, seeing his hesitation and the turn in his mood.

"Close. Aims a little off still. It's the muscles...I just need to keep at it." He turned it over some more before placing it on the other gifts on his lap. "Tell them I said thank you. Everyone. It means a lot."

"I will." She looked around, "Did you do the thing?"

"Yeah." He took another drink, "It's over there. Come on. I'll show you." He stood, sat the old glass milk bottle almost empty of cider on the ground, and the stack of gifts on the chair, before walking out of the firelight. Natasha followed. They came to a spot within a grove of trees where a small stone was engraved with the words Bernard Charles Barton: Son, Brother, Father. The stone was placed to face the house and barn in view below. A memorial to a man never found. The sky felt larger from this spot. The dome above, filled with the milky way that stretched from horizon to horizon, wrapped a little wider. She took his arm, "He would've liked it."

"I don't know. Maybe, but it's not for Barney. Hell, it's not even for me." He rubbed his hand through his hair quickly, stopping to scratch the back of his neck, "It's for Edy. A place for her to go, you know, when the time comes."

Natasha hugged his arm a little tighter, "I suppose we all need a place to go to remember."

Clint looked around the farm that stretched out below them. "And to forget."

She watched his eyes wander from field to barn and nearly whispered, "I'm sorry we couldn't save him."

He didn't respond right away and she began to wonder if he hadn't heard her before he finally exhaled, "There was no saving him Nat." His end was a road he had started on long ago. "I...I asked him to come here, to see it, to stay a while." Barney had never been back to the farm, not since the night their parents drove away and social services returned in their place. He had never seen home again. He never would. He swallowed down the emotion that threatened to choke him and looked up at the stars. _I wish I may, I wish I might..._ "I wish he'd had a chance to turn it around...to raise his daughter. I think that's all he wanted. He just left so many things...undone." He clenched his jaw against the pressure that had returned, encircling his vocal chords, and making his eyes water. Damn it all.

She watched him in silence, but cradled his arm, and kissed his shoulder. There were no words that could comfort so many levels of grief. His eyes glimmered with tears that refused to fall as his gaze returned to the stone. He had been here alone, with all of this, all these weeks upon weeks. It was how he had wanted it, and maybe she had been afraid to join him, but looking at him now she could feel nothing but guilt that she hadn't come sooner. She looked down and back to the driveway where her rental car sat reflecting the starlight and the flickering bonfire, "There's something else I wanted to give you."

"Oh yeah?" He took a deep breath, rubbed his hand down his nose, and straightened his shoulders.

"Yeah." She reached into her pocket, pulling out a toothbrush.

"Uhm...?"

"It's mine. Thought I could stay a while." She watched him hesitantly. Had she thrown away the chance to try? Had she decided to take this leap only to find it had taken her too long? Would he let her in now that the stakes were so much higher?

Clint pulled her close. She hadn't needed to worry. He knew this was no small gesture. This was her facing monsters she could more easily avoid, readily deny, and yet she was here. She was trying and he wouldn't push her away again. "Stay forever."

They leaned in to kiss when below them Edith's cry came through the monitor. He stopped and looked at Natasha, shaking his head, "That's the first time I've heard her." He was swept away for a moment and leaned back, rubbing his hand along his mouth. He huffed, amused, and looked back at her, "I think she's saying hi."

Natasha grinned, "Sounds like welcome home."

He looked in her eyes as she searched his. How he loved her. He had from the start. In small ways, in fleeting, nameless feelings that refused to be pinned down until they became an all encompassing, unwavering dedication. "It only needs you. All its ever needed...if you want it."

She rubbed her hand along his chest. She didn't know what she wanted, beyond that she didn't want to be anywhere but here, with him. She wouldn't walk away from him. She wouldn't leave him just because things had become more complicated. No, she couldn't because somewhere along the way they had become more than a team, more than lovers, more than friends. They were each others, two halves of a whole. Her eyes returned to his as she leaned closer to him, he held her tight as they kissed under the heavens and the bows of old trees that arched like the rafters of a cathedral.

Edith's cries grew louder, pulling him from their embrace. He stepped back, dropping one of her hands as he started to walk, but she didn't move. He waited as she stared at the house below. "I have to go Nat. I have to take care of her." When she still didn't move he nodded, sideways grinned, and released his grip on her hand.

He started to walk, but she held onto him tightly, stopping him for the second it took to step forward and walk beside him. She smiled, "Then lead the way Barton."

Together they walked down to the fire, collected their things, and walked toward the house. The path was dark, interrupted only by a few fleeting fireflies, as they leaned into each other, pushing through the parting grass, moving forward, two darkened figures becoming one as the stars looked on.

 **The End**

 _*A/N: Can you believe we've reached the end!? I hope it was worth the ride. I'm already planning the story that will follow this and there may be a one-shot or two. So, until next time. I'm sending a little hug to every one who followed (member and anonymous alike), faved, or commented on this one. You are amazing and I hope I've entertained you at least half as much as you have made me happy. :-) Thank you for reading!_

 _**A/N: This update is in response to the last guest review. Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed it. As far as what the future holds for Clint and Nat, never trust me. I'm terrible and this ending is only a bittersweet pause. Nothing is set in stone. ;-)_


End file.
